


Hamartia

by notpercy



Series: Son of the Night [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Violence, Dark!Percy, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Gore, M/M, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence, the vampire AU that no one asked for, vampire!Percy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2020-10-24 20:50:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20712329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notpercy/pseuds/notpercy
Summary: Because while these things happened, she watched, with an abject fascination, as the dark figure inched closer and closer. Was it another demigod? A ghost? A fucking demon? Annabeth wasn’t sure what to make of it, until it lifted a three-foot long blade in the air, and beheaded all of her attackers in three quick strokes.Their bodies tumbled to dust around her and Annabeth looked up to see a set of dark red, no, green—they were fading into an impenetrable sea green—eyes staring back at her, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.The vampire AU no one asked for!





	1. Sea Green Eyes

Annabeth was fucked.

Completely, enormously, astronomically _ fucked _.

The blonde cursed in ancient Greek as she felt cold brick press into her back. She was cornered, a woman was dead, and three fucking—Annabeth didn’t even know what they were, let alone what to call them—_thugs_, for lack of a better word, advanced on her in the dark alleyway. 

“What are you gonna do, sweetheart?” the one closest to her—the leader, she’d concluded—purred perversely. “It’s not really nice to interrupt a man and his friends when they’re having a meal, is it?”

The two other goons behind him snickered. 

Annabeth tightened her hold around the hilt of her dagger and flattened herself further against the wall. Her head was bleeding, her lip was busted, and she was pretty sure that a few of her ribs were broken after getting the shit beat out of her. 

She took a shuddering breath and glared into the set of wild, red eyes that gazed at her hungrily. After fighting at the front line for two different wars and surviving twenty years in the mortal world as a Greek demigod, you’d think she’d encountered every type of monster Hades (or Hera) had that he could throw at her. 

But not them. These guys were made of something else—their existence so fundamentally _ wrong _ and absurd that for the first time in a very long time, Annabeth was scared to fucking the bone. 

For a brief second, her eyes flickered to the mangled corpse of a woman strewn on the ground a few feet away. 

_ They were eating her. _

Annabeth’s stomach twisted.

She pointed her knife at her assailants. “Touch me,” she hissed, “and I’ll gut you, motherfucker.”

A loud, sardonic laugh bellowed throughout the tight corridor. _ “I’d like to see you try!” _

Without their leader, Annabeth would’ve been able to take the two goons behind him. Brass knuckles and a baseball bat were nothing compared to what she’d taken down before. But their alpha—Annabeth wasn’t so sure about him. He was strong. Too strong for her to have been prepared for.

The leader was dressed like his two other accomplices: ragged clothing and hard expressions that made them look like regular street thugs at first glance. But him, Annabeth could just _ sense _ he was capable of much more than your average alleyway beat-down. His bloodred eyes and the maniacal glint inside them betrayed that.

For a sick moment, Annabeth wondered if he was another demigod, but she quickly shook the thought away. The energy she was getting from them was completely different. These guys were beyond her realm of understanding. 

The alpha began to walk a half circle around Annabeth, analyzing her. “Say, are you a virgin by any chance?”

Annabeth stiffened. “Shut the fuck up.”

“‘Cause you sure _ smell _ like one. I’m surprised a girl as pretty as you and at your age hasn’t been—”

“_ Shut the fuck up!” _

Her own voice surprised her. Annabeth noticed that she was shaking—no, _ trembling _, and she choked back a sob.

It dawned on her that this man and his friends were going to do terrible, terrible things to her far worse than death.

Before she could even react, the leader swiped a long arm in front of her and pinned her knife-wielding hand on the wall above her head. Annabeth tried to shove him away with her free hand, but it felt like pushing against a concrete slab. She was too weak, and he was overpowering her. 

His fingers tightened, and tightened, and _ tightened _ around Annabeth’s wrist until she heard the sound of her bones crack and she screamed. The knife clattered to the ground, and her attacker’s free hand grabbed the collar of her shirt and ripped it from her body.

“Guess I gotta change that—”

Annabeth spat in his face.

She was pretty sure she’d just signed her own death warrant. As the leader recoiled with a flurry of curses tumbling out of his mouth, her attention wandered to the dark figure that was now standing at the entrance of the alleyway. Annabeth felt a hand clamp around her neck, and she watched the figure soundlessly approach as she was choked to near death. 

She was numb to the hands that started groping and tugging at different parts of her chest. She was numb to her jeans that were shoved off her hips and pushed down to her ankles. She was numb to the pain in her ribs when she was forced onto her knees.

Because while these things happened, she watched, with an abject fascination, as the dark figure inched closer and closer. Was it another demigod? A ghost? A fucking demon? Annabeth wasn’t sure what to make of it, until it lifted a three-foot long blade in the air, and beheaded all of her attackers in three quick strokes. 

Their bodies tumbled to dust around her and Annabeth looked up to see a set of dark red, no, _ green _—they were fading into an impenetrable sea green—eyes staring back at her, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

And then she fainted. 


	2. Blue Coffee

“So you really don’t remember what happened after you fainted?”

Annabeth blinked at the three sets of wide, concerned eyes gazing back at her. She shook her head. “No,” she said solemnly. “I don’t even remember getting here.”

Will gestured for her to hold out the arm that was partially wrapped with medical tape. As he inspected her healing wrist, Nico shifted uncomfortably beside him.

“So—” he began, “—t-they were… _ eating _ the body?”

Annabeth nodded. Earlier, she had recounted the events leading up to the fray to Piper, Will, and Nico when she came back to consciousness. 

“What were you thinking?” Piper snapped. She sat on the bed beside Annabeth, drumming her fingers against her thigh from anxiety. “Coming home _ late _ from campus and walking back _ alone _ through the city and cutting through _ alleys _ as a shortcut _ ? _ That’s like every ingredient for a bad situation! Gods, Chase, you can’t beat up everyone that gives you a hard time! Sometimes people can be even _ worse _ than monsters!”

“I know,” Annabeth spoke quietly. “I’m sorry. Really.”

“Don’t be _ sorry! _ I swear to god I’m going to _ kill _ those fucking bastards for what they did to you and—” Piper let out a heavy, frustrated breath and stopped herself. “Okay. I’m sorry. Not the right time to get mad. I’m done—no, I’m not done, but I’m going to shut up now.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” Annabeth gave Piper a reassuring smile, though inside she still wasn’t really sure how she should feel. She could barely process what happened the previous night. “And those guys… they weren’t just _ people _. They were monsters, I think.”

“You think?” Nico said.

Annabeth bit her lip. “I think.”

A horrifying image of the three men tearing at the raw limbs of the lifeless corpse flashed inside her mind, and Annabeth’s blood turned to ice. 

Nico shuffled. “Maybe I should talk to my dad about this?”

She shook her head in response. “Hades wouldn’t know anything about them. They weren’t Greek. I could tell.”

“But you said they turned to ash when they died.”

Annabeth wracked her brain. “Yeah, they did. But trust me, they’re not like anything we’ve faced before. It was like… it was like something straight out of a _ horror _ movie. They weren’t just cannibals loaded up on bath salts. They felt—” her breath hitched, “—supernatural? Paranormal? Downright _ nightmare _material. It almost didn’t feel real.” 

_ Almost. _

She choked up, remembering the scarlet red eyes that bore themselves into her skull that night. 

The room was silent for a few moments as everyone pondered her words. 

“What about the person who brought you here?” Piper eventually inquired. “Do you remember anything about him?”

“He had green eyes… and a sword. He used a sword. That’s all I remember.”

“Not a celestial bronze sword?”

“No. Steel, I think.”

“What I really want to know,” Will piped up as he replaced the other bandages on Annabeth’s arms, “is how he knew where to drop you off. I don’t suppose he texted Piper through your phone and was like, _ ‘Hey roomie, I forgot where we lived. What’s our address again?’ _.”

The others turned their gaze to her, but she only shrugged. “No idea. Maybe I said it while I was fading in and out?”

“Maybe.”

Piper sat up straighter. “He was already gone by the time I got to the door. That was wrapped around you when I found you. It’s the only thing he left behind.”

On the nightstand beside the bed sat an unassuming, olive green shawl. Tentatively, Annabeth picked it up and scrutinized it in her hands. The fabric felt soft, like it was freshly laundered, and it smelled like an ocean breeze.

“Here, eat this.” Will popped a square of ambrosia in Annabeth’s mouth. “You should be fine by tomorrow morning. Don’t do anything stupid for the rest of the day.”

“Thanks, Will.”

He sighed as he stood back up and placed an elbow onto Nico’s shoulder. 

“We’re going to head back to camp,” Nico decided. “I need to tell Chiron about what happened. Maybe he’ll know something.”

Annabeth and Piper nodded. They then bade their goodbyes before Will and Nico stepped into the shadow of Annabeth’s dresser and disappeared. 

Piper turned back to Annabeth. The previous fury in her eyes was replaced with worry, and she took Annabeth’s hand and squeezed it. “Do you want me to stay with you? You just went through something really, really traumatizing, Beth.”

Annabeth had another split-second flashback to when her shirt was torn from her torso. Suddenly, a white-hot lump of anger expanded in her throat, but when her eyes met her friend’s, it simmered away just as fast. 

She placed her palm on top of Piper’s. “Thanks, Pipes. I think I just need some alone time. I’m probably going to go back to sleep.”

* * *

That ended up being a futile attempt. After Piper left, Annabeth found herself tossing and turning in her bed. Alongside the nerve-wracking images from the previous night, so many questions kept her wide awake. 

What kind of monsters were they? Who was the girl that they’d killed? What kind of spiritual realm did they come from? Can they respawn like the monsters from Tartarus? Is beheading the only way to kill them?

Who was the man that had saved her?

The hours stormed by like they were minutes. Annabeth found herself staring out her window and watching the sun set below the horizon. The sky coalesced into a mixture of oranges, pinks, and purples, and sleep only inched itself away from her.

She shifted to look at the green shawl still placed upon her nightstand, and she reached out to inspect in once more. As she kneaded the fabric between her fingertips, she was satisfied to notice that her wrist was healed, and the pain in her ribs had decreased into a dull ache. 

Annabeth looked back at the nightstand to see that her phone was also there, charging, and she decided to scroll through it for some clues. 

She froze when the screen lit up. 

**[Unknown: (8:32 PM)] ** **You're still not safe.**

It was texted to her from a number she didn’t recognize, sent only an hour ago. 

It was a while before Annabeth even knew what to say to this. _ Okay _ , she told herself. _ No big deal. A Greek monster could sniff out a demigod from states away. This is old news. _

Still, her fingers trembled as she typed out her reply.

**[Annabeth: (8:35 PM)] Who is this?**

A few seconds trailed by as the **(…) **showed up on screen, and then she received another message. 

**[Unknown: (8:36 PM)] Someone who could help. Meet me at Dusk Cafe in half an hour.**

She searched the coffee shop on Google maps and found it was only a fifteen minute walk away from her apartment complex. Annabeth bit her lip and glanced at her bedroom door, thinking about Piper who was probably holed up inside her own room across the hall, fuming to Jason about different ways she was going to revive and then torture her attackers from last night. 

Then she looked back down at the green shawl that still sat in her lap, and sighed. 

_ Sorry Will _ , Annabeth thought to herself. _ I’m about to do something stupid _. 

* * *

Dusk Cafe was a small, hole in the wall coffee shop that sat between a sandwich shop and a Thai restaurant. The interior consisted of cozy lounge furniture propped up against the windows and quirky, antique table sets on the center floor. At the front stood the main counter for ordering, lined with additional stools for seating, while dim light fixtures hung from the ceiling and washed the room with a comfortable orange glow. The walls were decorated with framed, aesthetic prints of tea and coffee scenes, as well as some indie bands that Annabeth didn’t recognize when she first walked in. 

The only other people there was a single barista taking an order from another patron. Cautiously, Annabeth approached the front counter, and suddenly her breath hitched.

It was those sea green eyes that gave it away. That Annabeth immediately recognized from the night before, and the only detail she processed before fading out of consciousness. 

They belonged to a man who looked her age, and stood a few inches taller than her—around six feet, she estimated—with disheveled, jet black hair that was swept to the side. He had the build of a well-trained athlete, like a swimmer, but with more muscle, and he was dressed dark jeans and a black tee with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“You’re…” she breathed, her voice barely audible. 

When he saw Annabeth, he nodded and shot a small smile, but under that politeness, she noticed, was an underlying, passive look in his eyes that seemed to warn you. That seemed to say to anyone who crossed this man’s path: “No matter how bad you think you are, I’m worse.” 

Like a wild force caged beneath a trained composure.

“—and I’ll get whatever she wants,” he said to the barista. 

Annabeth blinked, looking away from the strange man and at the woman who stood behind the cash register. She had long, wavy brown hair peppered with light gray streaks pulled into a messy bun. The barista was an older woman, old enough to be her mom, and she had soft blue eyes that made Annabeth relax a bit. 

She flashed a warm smile and said, “What’ll it be?”

“Uh…” Annabeth droned as her eyes flew to the menu on the wall. “I’ll get a medium hot mocha.”

“Whipped cream?” The barista shot her a cheeky look that said, _ Trust me, it’s better with whipped cream. _

She allowed a small grin. “Yeah.”

The barista didn’t ring them up, which confused Annabeth, and she found herself looking back at the unnamed man. His eyes were still trained on her, like he wasn’t sure what to make of her, and Annabeth’s cheeks warmed up.

Then he gestured to the main floor and said, “Sit anywhere. I’ll get our drinks.”

Annabeth settled on a booth that sat at a far corner of the cafe. She propped her elbow on the table surface and looked through the glass storefront and onto the street outside. Nighttime was settling in, and the sky was a dark blue bordering on black with stars sprinkling the wide expanse. 

Absentmindedly, she toyed with the hem of the green shawl she’d wrapped around her like a scarf, while considering her current situation. _ Piper’s going to kill me when she finds out I’m gone _. 

She suddenly became very aware of the knife she kept at her side 24/7. This whole set-up could very well be a poorly laid trap that she had just _ waltzed _right into without even letting anyone know where she was, just like last night. Annabeth gritted her teeth.

But still, intuition told her that answering those texts and coming to this cafe was the right decision.

“Here.”

A mug topped with whipped cream was slid over as someone else settled into the seat across the table. 

“Thank you,” Annabeth said quietly, and she looked over to the steaming hot cup of… blue? coffee that was on the other side. Her brows furrowed but she didn’t ask. 

Then she looked a little higher and noticed that the same, scrutinizing expression was still on the stranger’s face. Her fingers tightened around her drink. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He gestured to her hand. “Your wrist,” he said. “It’s healed.”

_ Shit. _

That wasn’t something she could easily explain. Annabeth had temporarily forgotten this man quite literally found her in tatters. 

“Are you a demigod?” she blurted out.

The man blinked at her, and then leaned back into the booth. He took a slow sip from his drink, and said, “No, but I’ve encountered your kind before.”

_ Well, there goes my million dollar secret. _

“Now it makes sense.” He snapped his thumb and index finger in satisfaction. “Your name is Annabeth, right?” 

“How do you know that?”

“I went through your phone.”

The way he said that so _ casually _ made Annabeth ten times more anxious to be around him. He already knew her name, where she lived, that she was a demigod, and how she looked half-naked. Gods. 

She took a nervous sip from her mocha, and then nodded.

“I’m Percy Jackson. I was the one who… found you.”

Another flashback to the dark figure standing at the foot of the alley played inside her brain, and Annabeth stiffened. “Thank you,” she mustered. She hated how pathetic she felt.

“Can I ask who your godly parent is?”

The politeness in his voice surprised her. Aside from her father, step family, and the camp oracle Rachel, Annabeth had never trusted her identity with another mortal. 

And yet, she remembered how this man’s eyes had shifted from red to green. How he soundlessly beheaded three men right before she fainted.

Gut instinct told her that she could trust Percy Jackson. 

“Athena. My mother is Athena,” Annabeth finally said.

A displeased look settled onto Percy’s face. “It’s not very _ wise _ to cut through dark alleys in the middle of the night, you know.”

Annabeth scowled, and a cluster of angry words that she _ wanted _ to say balled up in the middle of her throat, but she swallowed it back down.

Percy raised an eyebrow. 

She cocked her head to the side, facing the glass wall. “Yeah, I know,” she muttered. Then annoyance flickered across her face, and she screwed her eyes shut and alloweda _little_ of her pride come out. “But it’s _ not _ like I can’t take care of myself. I’ve sent _ Titans _ and _ Giants _ back down to Tartarus so I’m not afraid of some low-life bottom-tier scum-of-society thugs looking to pick a fight in the middle of the night—” 

Annabeth noticed that Percy was smirking.

“I just—” she continued, frustrated, “—have never run into…” her voice trailed off. 

She wanted to scream.

“Ghouls,” Percy finished for her. “Two of them were ghouls. One of them was a vampire. You ran into them while they were feeding.”

Her blood ran cold at the word _ ‘feeding’. _

She forced herself to breathe as humiliation and fear and anxiety washed over her like a wave. Another gruesome image of the ghouls tearing into the body of the dead corpse flashed behind her eyelids, and she tensed. 

She then sipped at her mocha and let the warmth of it calm her down. A few seconds of silence passed, and then she asked, “What are _ you _, then? Some sort of vampire hunter?”

“Something like that,” Percy said casually. 

This annoyed her. She told him her secret identity and this guy had the _ audacity _to be vague about his?

Annabeth set aside the part of her that wanted to crawl into a hole. “What did you mean when you said that I’m ‘not safe’?” she huffed. “How do you even know where I live?” 

A hard expression settled on Percy’s face, and he sighed and crossed his arms. 

Annabeth tried not to look at them.

“I followed your scent. It led me back to your apartment.” 

_ Great, this guy even knows what I fucking _ smell _ like _. 

Percy drummed his fingers against his forearm. “Look, you’re the only one who’s managed to survive one of their feedings. When I dropped you off, I went back and found that the ashes were swept, the blood was gone, and the corpse was nowhere in sight.” His green eyes burned holes into her. “Your scent was all _ over _ that alley and your body wasn’t, so they know you got away.”

Annabeth steadied herself. Ghouls. Vampires. Alright, she could believe that. The possibility that she was being hunted at that very second? She could _ also _ believe that. There were monsters coming after her all the time. That was like Demigod 101. 

But still, the way Percy’s eyes blazed like Greek fire made her feel like the monsters _ he’s _ encountered could give Hades a run for his money. 

And then she remembered the fear and trauma from last night that sat on her chest and skin like a downpour was very, very real, and Annabeth found herself feeling afraid again.

“Okay…” she said slowly. “But still, who is _ they?” _

“The alpha. The one who’s been churning out beta vampires, like the one who attacked you last night.”


	3. Vampires

A demigod and a vampire hunter walk into a coffee shop. It was like a poorly set-up joke, much like the blue coffee Percy kept sipping at. 

Except that it wasn’t. Annabeth stared into the white swirls of whipped cream dissolving into her mocha, Percy’s words echoing inside her like a broken record. _ Beta vampires. Beta vampires. Beta vampires. _

Perhaps the detail that scared Annabeth the most is that when _ she _ was staring knives down into the scarlet, bloodthirsty eyes of the leader of those ghouls, she’d unconsciously been referring to him as an _ alpha _.

Knowing that he was actually just bottom-tier cannon fodder, a _ beta, _ who was able to beat the shit out of her and subdue her unlike any other monster she’s fought before, petrified Annabeth. 

If _ he _ was just a lackey, then she didn’t want to know what their boss was like.

The same guy who was probably tracking her down, right this moment. 

Annabeth kept her gaze downwards. “What, then, is keeping him from knocking down those doors right now?” Her voice was small. Timid. She felt like she was seven again, running away from home and running away from monsters. 

She was always running.

“That is.”

Annabeth followed Percy’s line of sight and found herself looking down at the green shawl around her neck. She tugged at it and asked, “How?”

Percy ran his fingers through his hair, and Annabeth was _ disgusted _ at how good he looked doing that. “It masks your scent.”

“With what?”

“Mine.”

Annabeth blushed. “But you killed that vamp and his ghouls. Wouldn’t they be coming after you?”

He shook his head. “No, that would be suicide.”

This annoyed Annabeth again. “Oh right, because you’re some cool guy vampire hunter.” She crossed her arms while leaning back into the booth, mimicking Percy. Then her stormy eyes glimmered. “Wait, I think I get it now!”

Percy’s expression darkened. “What do you _ get _, Wise Girl?”

Annabeth wanted to so desperately to roll her eyes at that pet name, but instead her mouth spread into a mocking smile. “You’re a _ werewolf _.”

His face was unreadable as she obnoxiously snapped her fingers.

“Vampires _ hate _ werewolves,” she declared so matter-of-factly. “This _ totally _ makes sense why they’re afraid of you and why you’re being so _ annoyingly _ vague about what you actually are. And that wolf-stare of yours that makes you both scary and hot? Like Taylor Lautner 2.0! It all makes sense now!” She tapped the side of her head. “ _ Duh _.”

Then Percy did something Annabeth was completely unprepared for. He started laughing.

Suddenly, he was doubled over the table. His shoulders shook violently as deep laughter rumbled out of him. He had one hand on his stomach while the other was palm-down, sprawled across the table top, and Percy just kept _ laughing _ so much so that Annabeth was thoroughly perturbed by the time he was done.

When he sat up again, Annabeth was surprised to see how his piercing green eyes could shift from brooding to humor so easily. It was enough to break her own sarcastic spell as she cracked a grin at Percy. 

“I like you,” Percy finally said with a smirk spread wide across his face, and Annabeth felt her face heat up. “But _ no _, I’m not a werewolf.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. If you’re not going to tell me _ what _ you are, then… why are you trusting me with this information? I didn’t so much as _ survive _ but…” She looked back down into her half-empty mug. “… you saved me. If you were a minute late, I would have just become… food, to them, I guess. So why tell me? Why make the effort to keep me safe?” 

Percy’s default stoicism settled back into his face. “I saw your knife. It’d been a long time since I’d seen a celestial bronze weapon, so I wasn’t sure, but now that I know you’re a demigod means I was right.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow as she lifted her mug to take a sip. “I take you know a little bit about Greek demigods.”

He shrugged. “Only enough to know that celestial bronze would hurt my dog. Artemis—right?—and her hunters, they almost killed him.” 

Annabeth almost choked on her mocha. “You—dog—what?” she sputtered. “You have a _ monster _ as a pet?”

“Hellhound,” Percy corrected. “But Mrs. O’leary doesn’t like being called that. Or a monster, for that matter.”

The young demigod blinked once. Then twice. And then a third time. 

“Anyways,” Percy continued, oblivious or probably just ignoring Annabeth’s incredulity. “I suspected you were a demigod, and I was right. Even better, you’re a child of Athena. You can _ help me _ track down this alpha and kill it. That’s why I let you live.”

Annabeth was silent.

“I’m kidding.” 

“That’s not funny.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Now he had a big, stupid smile on his face, and Annabeth wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or slap him. 

“Okay,” she finally sighed. “I’ll help you.”

Percy arched an eyebrow. “Really? I expected more protest.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. She took a nervous, final gulp of her beverage and said, “Yeah. I will. But there’s someone else who needs to know about this.”

* * *

Telling Piper was the last thing she wanted to do, but as long as they continued living together, then Annabeth couldn’t afford leaving her best friend in the dark. 

Heavy, stomping footsteps from the inside of their apartment rattled the metal hinges until the front door swung open and an exasperated Piper exclaimed, “Gods, it is _ 10 PM _ where have you _ been _, Chase—oh. Hello there.”

Annabeth imagined that it must have been odd for her roommate, as she and Percy froze the moment Piper started yelling and paused at the sight of them: Percy adjusting the green shawl while Annabeth's swatting his hands away from her neck because “stop—touching it, Percy, it’s _ fine _!”

While the three of them sat inside the living room and explained to Piper the current _ alpha-beta _vampire situation, Annabeth couldn’t help but think to herself that maybe in a different life, under different circumstances, she and Percy would have made a really good demigod team. 

It was a far-fetched thought that popped inside her brain as she watched him relay the details to Piper, but still. If Percy had been a demigod, she had no doubt that he would’ve been Big Three material. Maybe in a different life. 

But for now, there were other things that required more attention. 

The alpha vampire. The betas and their ghouls that were roaming the city right now. 

Before they left the coffee shop, Percy explained to Annabeth that for the past six months, there had been a dramatic influx of beta vamps crawling around the city. Teenagers, thugs, homeless people, children, businessmen—you name it, all turned into betas. Most were deranged, with their newfound vampire-hood overloading their nervous system and short-circuiting their brains, while others who withstood the change were able to recruit small groups of ghouls, like the ones who’d attacked Annabeth.

Percy only realized that someone had been _ deliberately _ turning people into vampires when he followed a small trail of blood that led to a young boy, around ten years old, alone in an alley. He was scratching and tearing at his own throat with his fingernails and screaming, _ “He did this to me! He did this to me!” _

“Who did?” Percy had asked him, to which the young boy responded by ripping down the collar of his shirt and exposing a small, S-shaped serpent branded into his chest. 

“Kill me,” the boy begged him. “Before I turn into one of them, _ please!” _

Percy wasn’t able to gather more information. The boy couldn’t withstand the transformation, and Percy hacked off the kid’s head before he completely turned. 

After that, all the betas Percy killed had the same serpent insignia on their skin. The one who attacked Annabeth had his branded on the back of his neck. 

Piper was pale by the time Percy had stopped talking. She was pacing around the room, fidgeting with her knife Katoptris. 

And then the gears shifted inside Annabeth’s head. “The timeline,” she gasped. “It makes sense now.”

Piper paused and both she and Percy stared at Annabeth. 

“What do you mean?”

Annabeth balled her hands into fists on her thighs until her knuckles turned five shades lighter. _ Of course _ , she thought bitterly. _ That’s why _. 

“Piper, we haven’t been attacked by a Greek monster for six months now.”

The room seemed to have dropped several degrees as Annabeth spoke, and realization slowly dawned on Piper’s face.

Annabeth gritted her teeth. “Something’s been _ scaring them away _, and now we know what it is.”


	4. Hunter

Telling Piper about the whole ordeal _ was _ the last thing Annabeth wanted to do, until she was charmspeaked into informing their closest friends at Camp Half-Blood.

“Holy shit.” 

Sudden plumes of fire erupted from Leo’s ears which, occasionally, happened when he was absolutely furious. The flames that shot out of both sides of his head disrupted the iris message. “I’m going to kill them. I’m going to grill some motherfucking zombies.”

“Ghouls,” Nico corrected from out of frame. “Like, horror movie ghouls. And vampires. Fucking _ vampires _—”

Somewhere, Will shushed him.

“Too late for killing,” Piper remarked as she leaned over Annabeth’s shoulder. The two peered into a rainbow cast by the sunlight passing through Piper’s humidifier. “Let’s cop another Physician’s Cure and revive those fuckers so we can torture ‘em, yeah?”

Leo made an exaggerated show of rolling his eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re threatening them or me.”

“Yes.”

He shot a glare at Piper. “_ Anyways,” _ Leo continued. “How are you so sure you could trust this guy? What was his name again? Pierre Jorgensen?”

“Percy Jackson,” Annabeth replied. “Gods, Leo, Mr. D has been rubbing off on you.”

Leo then aimed his glare at her. “Never say that again.”

Annabeth ignored him. “Percy saved my life, and everything he’s told me seems to line up with what I saw in that alley. If what he’s saying _ is _true, that this alpha is bad enough to even drive away Greek monsters, then…” Not wanting to finish that thought, her voice trailed off. 

“Alright,” Leo sighed. The flames in his ears started to die down to the size of matchstick fires. “I mean, hey, I’ve always wanted to be a vampire hunter.” 

Jason nudged Leo as he fit both of them into frame. “Pipes, Beth, do you think we should alert the others at Camp Jupiter? Hazel and Frank are the only ones nearby and I know they’ll head over there in a heartbeat.”

“Don’t send them here,” Annabeth said firmly, her gray eyes stern and unwavering. “I’m not risking any of us. That’s why Piper’s heading back to camp with you guys.”

“What? And you agreed to that, Piper?” 

She nodded grimly. “Dad’s sending a helicopter at noon.”

“And you’re just going to deal with the big bad vampire dude with some rando you hardly know?” Leo nudged against Jason, trying to fit more of his face back into view. 

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“_ Girl _—”

“By the way,” she looked to Jason, “Percy told me that Artemis and her hunters almost killed his, er, _ dog _ , once, so could you ask Thalia about it? Maybe she knows something. He says he’s not a demigod, but there’s definitely more than he’s letting on. He has a _ hellhound _ for a pet.”

“Gods, he even has a _ hellhound _—” Nico exclaimed the same time Will shoved both Jason and Leo out of frame. 

“Or, you know,” Will said. “You could just _ ask _him what’s his deal.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “I already _ have _ , and he’s vague about _ anything _ concerning himself.”

“Oooh, dark _ and _ mysterious,” Will cooed. “Sounds like someone we know.” He turned to look at Nico, who was still out of frame.

Jason poked his head back in. “We’ll try to find out more,” he said. “But we’ll also keep this between everyone here, plus Thalia.”

"And Chiron," Nico's voice sounded. 

“And Frank and Hazel!” Leo struggled.

Will shoved Jason and Leo out again. “And Annabeth,” he began, suddenly serious. “If you’re going to do this, you need to be careful.” Worry passed over his face like a cloud. “I know you’re strong, but you can’t keep doing…”

“I know, Will.”

His brows furrowed, and the iris message abruptly ended with Leo calling out, “—tell your boyfriend to stop _ assaulting _ us—”

Annabeth sighed as the rainbow faded out of the humidifier’s mist. Then suddenly her back snapped straight, and she scowled at Piper. “Friends don’t charmspeak other friends!”

“Friends don’t sit back and watch their best friend die trying to _ fight a whole army of vampires by herself. _”

Annabeth ran her hand through her hair, frustrated. 

Admittedly, she _ did _ want to tell them. She _ did _ want to ask for help from the others at Camp Half-Blood. Annabeth knew she couldn’t apply any of her inherited wisdom from Athena on monsters that came from a completely different realm, so naturally she wanted to utilize all the resources she could get her hands on.

But still, putting her friends in harm’s way was the last thing she wanted to do.

_ Not again _, a voice told her.

Piper leaned a hip against the wall and pressed her lips into a thin line. “Will’s right. I’m only heading back to camp because I trust your judgement, but—”

“You’re going,” Annabeth snapped. “I was wearing your shirt that night. There’s a chance they know your scent too.”

For a while, Piper was silent, her color-changing eyes unreadable as they stared into Annabeth’s. 

Then she crossed her arms and sighed. “You can’t keep chasing danger and fighting all by yourself, Beth. You can’t keep shouldering everything on your own. You have to—” her expression softened and her eyes turned pleading, “—to let us be there for you. If you’re not going to let us fight with you, then… at least don’t leave us in the dark. I know I wasn’t there for the first prophecy, but ever since... ”

_ Ever since Luke. _

“To be fair, I _ wandered _ into danger this time.”

Even so, a weight started to gather in Annabeth’s chest. Piper didn’t need charmspeak to sound so damn convincing, because she was right. 

There were a few more moments of silence before Piper turned and rested her back against the wall. “Whatever,” she mused, and her eyes fluttered shut. “I plan on coming back here, so don’t go dying on me. I still need someone to pay half the rent.”

Then she cracked a sideways smile. “And I know you have the hots for Percy. I gotta say, I didn’t know you went for the wild and brooding type, Chase.”

Leave it to a daughter of Aphrodite to sniff those things out.

“Fuck off, McLean.”

* * *

When Annabeth was seven, she ran away from home. 

When Annabeth was twelve, she took on the Great Prophecy. 

When Annabeth was sixteen, she fell into Tartarus.

When Annabeth was seventeen, she crawled back out alone. 

She cursed in ancient Greek as she took the stairs, two at a time, back down to her apartment, after seeing Piper off in her dad’s helicopter on the roof. 

She knows she shouldn’t be angry when her friends are looking out for her. She knows she shouldn’t be angry at herself after everything she’d gone through. She knows she shouldn’t be angry at her best friend, her first love, even after all these years.

Even after she killed him herself. 

As Annabeth stepped back into her apartment to get dressed, a part of her wanted to head into her room and crumble on top of the bed. 

Demigod PTSD was real, and she was the fucking embodiment of it. There was no recovery process.

_ You just have to deal with it, and hope you die early before the worst of it settles in. _

She let out a bitter laugh as the thought crossed her mind. Life wouldn’t be so kind to her to promise a swift ending, after she herself came back out through the Doors of Death. 

Annabeth understood when people at camp started looking at her like a ticking time bomb. 

She, too, wondered when she was going to explode. Maybe she _ wanted _that.

But not right now, at least. Not when she had a few vampires to kill. 

**[Annabeth: (12:30 PM)] Meet you at DC in an hour?**

A few minutes later, her phone vibrated. 

**[Percy: (12:32 PM)] Already here, come over.**

Instead of staying at her apartment to rest—she _ still _ hadn’t gotten eight hours of sleep since she woke up in the middle of Will rewrapping her head wound—Annabeth tugged on Percy’s shawl and went straight to Dusk Cafe. 

She peered at the time on her phone. _ 12:32 PM. _

There was still almost eight hours left in the day with sunlight, and Annabeth didn’t want to risk losing precious time before the ghouls and vamps came out at nightfall. 

The bell above her head dinged as she stepped through the entrance doors of the coffee shop. There were more people now sitting amid the tables and furniture, and she scanned around for a familiar face.

Finally, Annabeth spotted Percy, but this time he looked… different.

He was wearing a dark blue apron and working the front, making a latte for a patron. 

Annabeth headed up to the cash register, where the older woman she’d met previously stood with a warm smile. Annabeth’s eyes flickered to the nametag pinned on the woman’s chest. 

“Hey Sally, is it okay if I talk to Percy for a bit?”

Sally’s blue eyes glimmered in a way that Annabeth couldn’t decipher, and she looked over her shoulder and called, “Percy, I’ve got it from here.”

“You sure?” he said as he handed the patron her latte. 

“I’ll be fine! Annabeth’s here.”

Then Sally _ winked _at Annabeth, leaving her stunned and blushing. 

“Alright.” Percy untied his apron and threw it on a surface behind him. Then he gave Sally a quick kiss on the cheek, and stepped out from behind the front counter. 

Today, he was dressed in a white tee with the sleeves cuffed around his arms. The hem of shirt fit around his biceps nicely, and his shirt tapered down into a broad ‘V’ where it reached his hips. He also wore black jeans that Annabeth noticed quickly were his work jeans, with dark coffee ground smudges clustered around the sides and his front pockets.

As sunlight streamed in through the storefront and filled the shop with a natural glow, paired with the normal chatter of the patrons and sounds of the coffee being made, Percy looked… normal, to put it plainly, in this setting. 

Annabeth suddenly felt uncomfortable in her faded denim jeans and gray zip-up sweater.

His sea green eyes rested on hers, and it was the faint, underlying look of a trouble-making wildness underneath them that dispelled his otherwise casual aura.

And she liked that. 

“Missing me already?”

“Shut up.” Annabeth turned and looked around the shop once more. “I didn’t know you worked here,” she remarked, shoving her hands into her front pockets.

Percy grinned. “Only to help my mom when it gets really busy.” He gestured over to Sally. 

Annabeth couldn't predict this man. Her lips formed an ‘O’. “Is this your family’s shop?”

He nodded, and flashed his trademarked smirk at her. “Yeah, and we live upstairs. C’mon.” 

The two of them started walking down a hall that led further back into the shop until they stopped at a staircase. 

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon; I thought you were going to rest.” Percy started taking the first few steps up.

“I can’t,” Annabeth mumbled, following behind him. “I need to talk to you.”

“Look, I know you demigods are hardwired for battle but you seriously need to slee—”

“Teach me how to kill a vampire.”

Percy paused a step above her, and turned towards her with a look of interest. “Annabeth—”

“You’re going to teach me, and we’re going to hunt one tonight.”


	5. The Prophecy

“No,” Percy said flatly, then continued his way up the stairs. 

Annabeth huffed with discontent and crossed her arms over her chest. She continued up the stairs, keeping at least a two-step distance away from him. “What do you mean _ no? _”

When they reached the top of the staircase and emerged onto the second story, Annabeth momentarily forgot about her annoyance. 

The best word she could come up with to describe the living space was that it was, well, _ cozy. _In the middle of the living room was a dark brown, suede sofa that was treated kindly with age but still very well served its purpose, placed in front of a coffee table and humble TV set. Spread out on the floor below was cream colored carpet, patterned with the recent trail marks of a vacuum, that crept into the corridors and slightly ajar bedroom doors until it reached a halt the kitchen. A small, square dining table stood in the middle of the kitchen tiles, with an unfinished mug of tea and an annotated stack of papers papers sitting on top. 

What struck Annabeth the most, however, were the books. 

Almost every wall face had a bookshelf propped against it, filled to the brim with a countless amount of novels, textbooks, volumes, publications, guides—you name it, that filled every single shelf in the kind of mismatched, disorderly, messy way books end up being arranged after being read and loved. 

Annabeth would be lying if she didn’t feel at least a _ little _ excited being around so many written works. But still, this place was nowhere near what she expected a guy like Percy Jackson to be living in. His home gave off the same warm, comfortable feeling the Athena cabin back at Camp Half-Blood gave her. 

But Percy? Her stomach somersaulted just at the thought of him.

“We’re not going hunting.” Percy’s voice jostled her back to the present, and she tried her best to blink the sparkle away from her eyes. He stole a glance at her, then turned away. “Not yet, at least. You need to rest more.”

“You live here.” The words came out before Annabeth even realized she said it. Then she walked towards the suede couch and plopped down onto the cushions.

Percy went over and sat on one of the arms of the sofa. “Yeeaaah,” he dragged out, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, it’s kind of messy right now. Mom’s been staying up late trying to meet a deadline for her writing class.”

The side of Annabeth’s mouth quirked up in a small smile. “Your mom goes to the university here. What about you?”

He shook his head, and nodded towards a frame that hung on a wall across the living room. “Graduated last year in Marine Bio. I want to work in research, eventually, but things come up, so I’m taking a gap-year.”

_ Things like vampire hunting _, Annabeth noted.

The fact that he was so _ nonchalant _ about something like that. Gods.

Still, Annabeth couldn’t help but smile. “That’s the second normal thing I know about you.”

Percy shot a look at her. “What’s the first?”

“You work at a coffee shop.”

He grinned. “Yeah, whatever, Wise Girl.” 

Then Annabeth remembered why she was annoyed at him. “Fine, we won’t hunt one tonight,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest again. “But still, how do you kill a vampire?”

An unreadable expression flickered across Percy’s face before it settled back into its default brooding. Then he got up and headed towards a closet door in the hallway. “What kind of weapon do you prefer?”

Annabeth tilted her head. 

The closet door swung open and Percy disappeared behind it, rummaging through the items inside. “Silver,” he called out. “Silver hurts them. Anything holy. Fire too.”

Annabeth stood up from the couch and started walking towards Percy, until the sight of a three-foot long blade made her voice ball up into her throat. 

_ The _ blade. 

Her heart drummed inside her chest. She could already feel her skin heat up as she suppressed another flashback from that awful night. Annabeth shoved her hands into her hoodie’s pocket, keeping her arms pressed firmly against her sides. 

Percy seemed to briefly pause, as if he took notice of Annabeth’s sudden discomfort. But if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it, and continued talking. 

“A wooden stake through the heart would work too, but no modern day vamp’s going to fall for that.” He leaned his sword against the wall, and Annabeth found herself struggling to focus on it. The image of the steel blade kept flickering between a baseball bat and a metal pipe. 

_ It’s affected by the Mist? _

“Beheading them, though, is the best way to take down a vampire for good.”

Annabeth tried to relax her expression, and turned back to look at Percy. “But your sword is steel, not silver.”

Percy gently shut the closet door. “Silver makes for shitty blades. I just go for the head with this.”

An image of the mangled woman—the near _ decapitated _, mangled woman in the alleyway flickered inside Annabeth’s mind, and her skin turned cold.

“So, what kind of weapon do you prefer?”

Instinctively, she reached down the side of her thigh and brushed her fingers over the knife inside her jean pocket. “I’ll stick with my knife.”

Percy leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Look where that got you.”

Annabeth grimaced, and suddenly felt small under Percy’s sea-green eyes as he looked at her with the same, scrutinizing expression he had when they first met. 

Which was also yesterday. 

He turned and opened the closet once more. Annabeth couldn’t see what Percy was reaching for, but once she did she_ immediately _wished for something else. 

In his hands was the largest semiautomatic pistol Annabeth had ever seen. 

“Wha-wha…?”

Percy looked down at it, then back at her. “It’s a gun.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know that! It’s—”

“It’s a holy weapon,” Percy finished for her. There was a small _ click! _ and Percy pulled out the magazine, inspecting the massive rounds inside. Annabeth stared at it wearily. “The silver bullets are blessed. One shot is enough to blow off the head of a vamp or ghoul, if you aim correctly.” Then he placed the massive weapon in her hands, and, to Annabeth’s surprise, it felt… light. 

She looked down, and the image of the pistol flickered between a water gun and a slingshot. 

_ The Mist. _

“I’m sure you know how to use this.”

Annabeth stiffened.

The demigods back at Camp Half-Blood weren’t trained to use guns. This was simply because celestial bronze—special Greek ore alongside stygian iron and imperial gold that could kill monsters —was such a rare material that it just wasn’t practical to use it for disposable weaponry like bullets. Instead, they were taught swordfighting and archery, to use weapons with longevity, to kill monsters.

But still, the way the pistol felt so familiar in Annabeth’s hands made her gulp. She was a decent shot—no, a fucking _ ace _ at shooting guns. Blame her Military History professor father for teaching her at an early age once the monsters started attacking her family. 

Yeah, by the time she was seven, Annabeth was a top-notch shot. 

The thought of it sickened her and she scowled. 

“Yeah,” she finally admitted. She turned it around in her hands, inspecting it, and resigned herself to the weapon. 

“What is it?” Percy said suddenly in a voice so stern that Annabeth’s head snapped back up.

“What?”

“You’re not telling me something.”

“How do you know that?”

“You smell guilty.”

Annabeth gritted her teeth. 

_ Fuck! _

“I…” she began, her voice faltering. She jerked her head to face the wall beside them. “I sent Piper back. Back to… somewhere safe.”

Percy was silent for a few moments, and Annabeth didn’t want to face his wolf-stare that felt so strong it should’ve burned holes through the green shawl wrapped around her neck.

“So you’re alone in that apartment,” he said with steady finality. 

Annabeth nodded weakly.

Another few seconds of silence, and the closet door swung open a third time. Percy fished out at least a dozen cardboard boxes filled with rounds, and a duffel bag that already seemed half full with clothing. 

“What are you doing?” Annabeth asked as he stuffed the boxes inside the bag. Then he grabbed his sword that was still leaning against the wall, and tapped the tip of it. The sword shrunk into a small, unassuming pen, and Annabeth’s blood ran cold.

_ It’s not Greek, _ she reminded herself. _ But it’s just like Riptide _.

The sword Luke used before he betrayed them.

“Packing to stay over at your place,” Percy answered. The swiftness and familiarity in the way he moved made Annabeth think that this wasn’t the first time he had to leave home on such short notice.

“Why—?” she managed, and he swung the strap of the duffel bag over his shoulder. 

Percy’s eyes met hers, and he said, “‘Cause you’ll be dead without me.”

“Wh-what about Sally?” Annabeth sputtered.

He took the gun and gave it a quick once-over before handing it back to her. “You and I both know that sometimes the best way to protect someone is to stay as far away from them as possible.” 

Suddenly the look in his eyes shifted, and he cracked a smirk. “Besides, my mom is _ way _scarier than me.”

Then, as if on some sort of comedic cue, Annabeth inelegantly fainted in front of Percy Jackson for a second time. 

* * *

Her eyes shot open to bright white, and a hazy image started to appear before her. 

It was like looking at an old film, with the features grainy and low quality. Annabeth found herself staring at the face of Rachel, Camp Half-Blood’s oracle. She was standing inside the rec room of the Big House, posed like she was going to give a speech in front of a camera.

“Annabeth,” Rachel’s voice sounded, wispy and far-away. “I’m reaching you through Clovis. This is a memory from September 11, 2019 at 1 PM.” 

_ Half an hour ago _, Annabeth noted passively. 

And then she realized that she was just _ knocked out _ because of Clovis’s ability to put people to sleep. For Rachel to have him do this from all the way across the country means she must’ve been desperate to contact Annabeth. Couldn’t she have just iris-messaged her?

“Iris-messaging isn’t working for you,” Rachel continued, as if she read Annabeth’s mind (which wouldn’t have been possible, considering that Rachel was speaking to her through Clovis’s memory). “I think it’s the same reason why Greek monsters are staying away from you. The alpha’s probably causing this.”

_ Well shit _.

“Don’t think you can hide things from me, the _ camp oracle _ ,” Rachel enunciated her words in her own classic, Rachel-way. “But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I’ll have Piper charmspeak Clovis into forgetting this once this message reaches you, but—” the redhead paused and looked around her, as if she was worried about getting caught, and continued “—I… there’s…well, a prophecy came out this morning when I was alone, and I think—er, I _ know _ it’s about you.”

_ Prophecy? What the hell? _

Rachel paused, took a deep breath, and steadied herself before reciting the lines: 

_ Daughter of Athena and Son of the Night _

_ Cursed bond forged by a blighted bite _

_ A betrayal against one’s own kind _

_ The King of Death, to scourge or rise_

Once she was finished, Rachel swayed in her stance like she’d just gotten off a roller coaster. Her green face fit the part. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know what you’re up to, and we haven’t spoken in so long, but Annabeth…” her face turned pleading, “I _ know _ this is about you. Please, for everyone’s sake here at camp, please be careful—”

Then she doubled over, grasping her stomach in pain, as green smoke crept out of her open mouth. “_ The half-hound one writhes in pain,” _ she spoke in the ancient voice of Delphi. “_Calling__ out his brother’s name.” _

Another prophecy.

Rachel snapped back up, looking like she was going to puke. Then the image shifted to a corridor inside the Big House where Travis and Connor Stoll were walking in, ping pong paddles in hand. 

“Shit,” Rachel cursed, and Clovis turned back to her. “Sorry, should’ve chosen a better place to do this. I have to go. Good luck—and, please, _ please _ try to…” Her eyes darted around as she searched for the right word, and then she let out an exasperated breath. “Just fucking _ live _, okay?”

* * *

Annabeth gasped as she sat up, bumping foreheads with Percy. He had her cradled in his lap.

“Annabeth, you were out for five minutes—”

“It was the oracle from camp!” the words tumbled out of her like a tidal wave. “Rachel, iris-messaging isn’t working for me, and she had to use Clovis and then Travis and Connor—”

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” Percy cut her off, eyes still worried.

“There’s a prophecy. About _ us _,” Annabeth said, and she recited it to him.

Percy winced. “That’s still annoyingly cryptic.”

“Then there was something else, something—” 

She cleared her throat.

_ The half-hound one writhes in pain, _

_Calling out his brother’s name _

Percy’s expression suddenly darkened. “We have to go.”

“What? Do you know what that means—”

He stood up and pulled Annabeth to her feet. 

“The half-hound,” Percy said in a low, sad voice. “That has to be my brother.”


	6. Quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Sorry for the delay, but I hope posting this longer chapter makes up for it! I'm finally fleshing out the story a little more, and a certain someone is finally introduced that I think will make you guys pretty happy...
> 
> Also, I was looking back at the previous chapters and realized that I don't really like the writing in some of them. I've decided that I'll also be rewriting previous chapters for aesthetic reasons, but I won't be changing any of the events or anything else pertaining to the plot. I just want to make some cosmetic changes to the writing style, haha. 
> 
> But anyways, I hope you enjoy!

The way Percy murderously stared down the road made Annabeth’s heart leap into her throat. It vaguely reminded her of the Gray Sisters’ Taxi, but even Anger, Wasp, and Tempest couldn’t hold a candle to how furiously Percy drove. His knuckles were bare white as he held the steering wheel with an iron grip, and the scowl on his face made Annabeth shift closer to the window in the front passenger’s seat. 

She pressed herself further into the cushions, one hand holding the handle on the ceiling above her and another on the hilt of her knife. The pistol Percy had given her was tucked into the hem of her jeans, and the handle dug uncomfortably into her skin when the steering wheel was yanked to the left and the car drifted sideways.

“Percy.” Annabeth tried to sound calm. “Where are we going?”

After reciting to the second part of Rachel’s prophecy, they gathered their things as quick as they could and immediately hustled into Percy’s car. It wasn’t the first time Annabeth was thrown into hurry the second after receiving input from their camp oracle, but Percy Jackson and his world was uncharted territory, and Annabeth still only felt like an observer.

Percy gritted his teeth. “Whitefall.”

“Whitefall? That’s half an hour away—”

“We’ll make it in fifteen.”

A black hole of dread opened up in Annabeth’s stomach. “Percy, what did the prophecy mean by ‘_ the half-hound one’ _?”

Percy let out a bitter chuckle. “Remember what you said about werewolves?”

“Your brother’s a werewolf?”

He nodded.

“And you’re not?”

Percy shook his head, and his eyes briefly flickered upwards to look at the rearview mirror. “He’s my half-brother. His mom was a werewolf.”

Annabeth let this bit of information settle in her mind. Percy, a vampire hunter. Sally, a seemingly retired vampire hunter. Percy’s brother, a werewolf. Alright, that’s not too hard. It wasn’t like memorizing the entire Greek god lineage, after all. 

“And your brother—”

“Tyson.”

“Tyson, you think he’s in Whitefall?”

The features of Percy’s scowl deepened. He leaned back into his seat, and cracked his neck. “He _ should _be in Whitefall, working for our father, but—” Percy looked up at the rearview mirror again. “We’re being followed.”

Before Annabeth had the chance to speak, the road beneath them rumbled with an ominous groan, and the car slowed to a grudging stop. Percy tried flooring the accelerator, but the vehicle didn’t budge, and the tires were jammed. She and Percy shared a confused expression, and then wrestled off their seatbelts.

As Annabeth got out of the car, she took those few seconds to analyze where they were parked. Percy took the backroads out of town and was heading to Whitefall via the rural route, so she was unsurprised to see a seemingly unending expanse of blooming almond trees line the right side of the road, while the left was secured with wire fencing to keep a few grazing cows from wandering onto incoming drivers.

Then she turned back to look at Percy’s car that sat like it was rooted to the right lane of the road. 

Annabeth gaped.

It really _ was _rooted. 

“The fuck?” Percy cursed, pulling out his sword and hacking at thick green vines that suddenly sprouted through the asphalt and wrapped around the treads of his tires. “What the—hell!”

But Annabeth had seen something like this before. She could count on one hand the amount of people she knew who could summon nature magic at this strength and intensity, and the unmistakable sound of a flute playing in the background singled them out to one person. 

“Annabeth!” a frantic voice called. 

The first thing she saw were a pair of goat legs. 

“Grover—wait, _ stop!” _

Grover blew into his flute once again, and dark green tendrils shot out from the ground and wound themselves around Percy’s ankles. 

“What the—” he barely managed, lurching forward and about to hit the ground until another pair of vines erupted from the ground and bound his hands behind him. Percy stood upright, thrashing among the weeds that were slowly encasing him in a leafy prison, and his sword clattered to the ground. 

Grover ran to Annabeth, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from Percy’s car. “Thank the gods I got to you in time! Are you hurt? Did he do anything to you? Annabeth I was _ so worried _—”

“Grover!” she yanked her arm away. “What are you doing? I’m _ helping him!” _She thrusted an open palm at Percy. 

“Helping?” The satyr looked flabbergasted. “_ Him?” _

“Yes, him!” She started marching towards Percy. “Unbind him, Grover!”

“Annabeth, I _ thought you were dead!” _

She paused mid-step.

_ Dead? _

She spun around to face Grover, who stood with his arms dangling weakly at his sides. Annabeth blinked once, then twice, her fury subsiding. “Why would you think that?” she asked. “Didn’t the others at camp tell you—”

Grover’s confused expression answered that for her. 

“Then—” Annabeth paused, trying to find her words. “Why—when—_ how _ did you find me? Why did you think I was dead?”

The Lord of the Wild shifted on his hooves uncomfortably. “Our empathy link. I was getting visions of you being stuck in an alley, and for some reason I couldn’t iris-message you, so I took a trip over here to check in but…”

“But what?”

Grover scratched the top of his head. “Your scent. Not that you _ smell _ gross as a dead body, but… uh—” his eyes darted from side to side, trying to find the right words.

Internally, Annabeth rolled her eyes. What is it with everyone talking about her _ scent? _

For a split-second, she had a horrible flashback to what the beta-vampire from two nights ago said to her. 

_ “Say, are you a virgin by any chance? ‘Cause you sure smell like one.” _

Annabeth boiled inside. 

“You know that same creepy feeling you get around one of Nico’s undead servants? Like death just _ radiates _ off of them?” Grover struggled. “That’s what your scent was like! Like someone was dragging around your dead bo—”

Annabeth’s fingers drifted to the shawl around her neck. 

“But…” Grover then turned to Percy.

Annabeth, too, shifted to look at him. Percy was no longer thrashing, and he gazed back at them with an expression on his face that looked… really sad. 

“The smell of death…” the satyr said slowly, “it’s—”

Then Percy’s eyes widened. _ “Get away from the trees!” _

Grover and Annabeth wasted no time turning back to look and sprinted towards Percy. Annabeth unsheathed her knife and sliced away at the binds around Percy’s wrists while Grover tried playing his flute again, but his shoulders kept trembling, and his eyes were locked on the creature that stood just beyond the tree line. 

“What is that?” the satyr breathed.

Annabeth finished hacking away the rest of the vines, and the green tendrils that were wrapped around Percy, alongside the ones around the wheels of his car, promptly receded back into the asphalt. Percy picked up his sword and took a step in front of her and Grover, while Annabeth finally got a good look at the… the… 

“A ghoul,” Percy spat.

A rotting corpse of a young boy, probably around sixteen years old, emerged from the cluster of almond trees. His skin was pale, tinted of sickly green and brown, and he had sulfur-yellow eyes with milky-white irises. Masses of dark brown blood oozed out the sides of his crumbling lips and out of his ears, while his body was covered with patches of open skin, revealing the grisly sight of viscera underneath. Annabeth noticed that the ghoul wore what was left of the tattered remnants of denim jeans and a red flannel, and she was hit by a sickening realization that this might have been a local farm boy that got lost in the trees. 

_ And found by a vampire. _

For a moment, Annabeth wondered what she was looking at when she noted a dark substance that trailed behind the footsteps of the ghoul, spilling from its body like soil rolling off a hill, until she saw it wriggling on the asphalt and realized they were _ larvae _. 

The ghoul’s jaw dropped open, and a heart-wrenching noise that sounded like a wounded animal’s groan came out. 

“Annabeth.” Grover an extended an arm in front of her. “We need to go—”

She took out the pistol and squeezed the trigger in one motion. _ BANG! _

Birds fluttered into the sky, abandoning their perches in the trees and nearby powerlines. The gunshot seemed to echo for miles, rolling through the grassy lots and farmland that extended around all around them.

Grover and Percy flinched at the noise, unprepared for the sudden burst of gunpowder. Percy turned his head to look at Annabeth, eyes wide and dumbfounded, and opened his mouth to say something before the sound of a wet _ SMACK! _ interrupted him. 

The ghoul was now sprawled on the floor, the remains of his head and part of his neck blown into wet bits all around him, alongside wriggling masses of larvae and fly eggs that were burrowing into parts of the skull. The body convulsed once, twice, then all at once the ghoul and whatever was left of it burst into a cloud of dust. 

Grover looked like he was going to throw up. Percy looked like he just witnessed a car crash.

Annabeth felt like she was going to faint.

She made a mental note not to do that, however, or else it’d be the third time she had passed out in the last few days. 

Her breath was shallow, and despite how nervous she was just a few seconds before, wielding the pistol in her hands and landing a perfect shot made Annabeth feel steady. A lot more protected, and a lot more _ powerful _ than back when she was assaulted in that alley.

But still, ghoul or not, she had just killed what was once a young boy. 

Percy capped his sword and tucked the pen inside his pocket. “We should go.”

Grover snapped back to reality. “Yeah!” His arm flew around Annabeth’s shoulders. “We’ll go, without you!”

“No, Grover!” Annabeth protested, and tucked the gun back into her waistband. “We _ need _ Percy. I’ll explain on the way there.”

“On the way where?”

“Come _ on.” _ Percy grabbed both Grover and Annabeth and hustled the three of them to his car. 

“Wait!” Grover wailed. “My car!”

“Ditch it,” Percy growled. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

* * *

“A _ ghoul?” _ Grover bleated from the backseat. “And _ none _ of this has to do with Hades trying to kill you for, y’know, _ existing _?”

Annabeth shook her head. When they finally put enough distance between them and where the ghoul encounter took place, Annabeth recited almost everything that had happened so far. She told Grover about being attacked by the beta-vampire and his ghoul companions in the alley that first night. She detailed how she woke up in her apartment, dazed and confused, with Piper, Will, and Nico at her bedside. Then she spoke about how she met Percy Jackson, and the mysterious Serpent insignias branded on the individuals who were being made into vampires. Finally she ended with the prophecy Rachel gave her, leading to why Annabeth and Percy left town to go find his brother Tyson. 

While talking, Annabeth purposely left out some details, like her brief iris-message with the others, and _ where _ she had sent Piper back to for safe housing.

For some reason, Annabeth was hesitant about telling Percy about Camp Half-Blood. She had already admitted _ much _ more about herself and the Greek world to him than any normal mortal should know, but it wasn’t like Percy was unfamiliar with it. He already knew about Artemis and her Hunters, and how demigods were hardwired for battle, and the fact that he knew his dog was a hellhound from the Underworld! 

Just _ how _ he knew about those things, however, was a puzzle that was on Annabeth’s mind. 

And Camp Half-Blood, that was still something he didn’t seem to know about, and Annabeth wanted to keep it that way. Mostly because exposing the existence and location of the camp was something that demigods _ weren’t _ supposed to do, but there was more to that, she could _ feel it _, but Annabeth wasn’t sure just what. At this point, she knew she could trust Percy with her life, but can she trust him with the rest of her friends and family? Can she trust her friends and family not to attack Percy? 

It’s not like he attacked Piper when he came over to their apartment, and he even tried to defend Annabeth and Grover from the ghoul.

But she’s also seen this same man effortlessly behead three people—er, people turned into cannibalistic monsters—and Annabeth didn’t want to take any chances. 

After all, Dionysus would quite literally smite him on the spot, if Percy ever stepped foot through their camp’s borders. 

Percy was different, Annabeth had already concluded the first time they properly met, but also more than that. She still didn’t know anything _ useful _ about him, but still. Percy Jackson and Camp Half-Blood were two worlds she didn’t want colliding. 

Not yet, at least. 

“That ghoul, though,” Annabeth said. “He didn’t look like the first two I saw from that night.”

Percy was scowling at the road ahead like normal. They were no longer in the rural back roads, and were now driving through the outskirts of Whitefall. “This one hadn’t fed. It looks like some vampire turned the kid into a ghoul, the kid couldn’t handle the change, and was left in the trees to rot.” 

Percy was rigid, and his hands clamped the steering wheel so hard Annabeth thought it might snap. 

“When we find my brother,” he said. “I’m going back there and killing the vampire who did that to the kid.”

“Or just kill the guy behind this entire scheme,” Grover sighed, and he sat back into his seat and crossed his arms. 

“No way the boss is going to go out of his way and bite a fucking farm boy and turn him into a _ ghoul. _ It has to be one of the betas,” Percy hissed. “Besides, who’s to say that the beta vamps actually _ asked _ to be turned? You saw the one that attacked you, Annabeth. He seemed pretty fucking happy to be as powerful as he was, and even successfully recruited two ghouls with him. Lots of people would want that kind of strength.”

“That’s true,” Annabeth muttered. 

“Wait,” Grover piped up. “What’s the difference between a ghoul and a vampire?”

Percy was silent. For a few moments, the only sound that filled the air between them was the steady hum of the car’s engine, and the rumble of the tires over asphalt underneath. Then he spoke again. “A ghoul is servant to vampire that turned them, unless their master decides to leave them for dead like the kid back there.”

Annabeth and Grover nodded. 

Percy continued. “You can’t become a vamp if you’re not a virgin. Birth of a vampire requires… pure blood, I guess.”

Grover’s face was tinted a pale red. “So the ghou—kid, back there, had sex before. That’s not too crazy. Teenagers are… gross.”

But Annabeth didn’t hear Grover. Percy’s words crashed into Annabeth like a glacier splitting open. That’s why the beta asked her if she was a virgin. That’s why he was going to… to—

“Or he was raped,” Percy replied. 

Tension settled into the air like a blanket of snow. There was a brief silence between the three of them, but Annabeth couldn't ignore the mass accumulating in her throat. She bit back a sob.

Annabeth jerked her head to the right and stared out the window. _If Percy hadn't been there... _

“Okay,” Grover said. His voice was low. Calm. “I’ll help you. You need three people for a quest, after all.”

Percy was taken aback. “Quest?” he asked.

Annabeth blinked away tears that were threatening to spill. “Yeah,” she said, trying to hide the sniffle in her voice. “You go on a quest after getting a prophecy.”

She was one hundred percent sure that Grover and Percy knew she was trying not to cry, but leave it to her fatal flaw to try and preserve whatever pride she had left.

Then the car pulled into a parking lot, and Percy turned off the engine. “Alright,” he said. “If Annabeth trusts you, I trust you.”


	7. Unlike Father

“Where are we?” Grover asked.

Annabeth looked out the windshield and saw that Percy had pulled up in front of perhaps the sketchiest building she’d ever seen. The front was dimly lit, held together by faded chipping walls lazily covered with poorly varnished wooden planks. There were only two small, square windows on either side of the front door that allowed a view from the inside, but the glass was so dark and smoky that Annabeth might as well have been looking into a dark room. A plain, rectangular sign with words so faded they were unreadable hung above a metal grate entrance guarded by a heavyset man, and the only telling sign that there was life inside was a thin line of light creeping out from underneath the front door. 

Annabeth only noticed that she was trembling when she felt Percy slightly adjusting the shawl on her shoulder. Although the gesture still seemed odd, like the first time he did it right before they talked to Piper, Annabeth didn’t say anything.

She turned to see Percy leaning towards her, tugging upwards at the hem of the scarf so less of it draped down her shoulders. It was strange seeing his face up close like this, and how concentrated he looked while adjusting it. Maybe the scent of her fear was a little too obvious at that moment. Maybe Percy was picky with how people wore his scarves. 

His eyes flickered up at her and Annabeth’s face heated up. His expression was as unreadable as ever. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Can’t risk it.”

Then it dawned on her. Her neck. 

_ Of course _. They were hunting vampires, after all. Her neck was the most vulnerable spot of them all, and probably where her scent emanated the strongest.

Then Annabeth looked back at the building. If Percy’s worried about that right now, then what kind of people were they going to meet?

Percy leaned away and cleared his throat. “My dad owns this place,” he answered Grover’s earlier question. “We’re going to pay him a visit.”

The three of them got out of Percy’s car. As Annabeth closed her door, she turned to look at Grover. 

_ ‘You don’t have to do this,’ _her expression said. 

_ ‘I will,’ _ Grover looked back at her. 

She pressed her lips in a thin, worried line and turned her attention forward. 

As the three approached the front, Annabeth started to feel dread weigh down on every footstep. Every neuron in her body told her that this was _ not _ a place she should be, and she could feel her fight-or-flight instincts start to kick in. 

_ Snap out of it! _ she told herself. _ You got through Tartarus, you can get past this scary-looking guy at the fro— _

“Luther!” Percy called, and his step quickened as he approached the guard.

The man narrowed his eyes at Percy, and realization flooded his face. “God, Perce, is that you?” 

Annabeth and Grover just stared.

The bouncer then held out his arms and engulfed Percy in a huge bear hug. 

“Been too long.” Percy gave Luther a few pats on the back before releasing from the embrace. “Sorry I haven’t dropped by in a while.”

“Nah,” Luther said as he pulled away. “A good guy like you ain’t got no business in a place like this. Why the hell are you here?”

Percy’s expression soured. “Need to talk to dad. How is he?”

Luther let out a huge sigh and his shoulders slacked. “A fucking demon, like always.” Then he shot a look at Annabeth and Grover, who were still standing a few feet behind Percy. “They with you?”

“Yeah, they are.”

“Why’s the boy got funny looking pants on?”

Percy turned to look at Grover. Annabeth wasn’t sure if Percy could see Grover’s goat legs through the Mist. The thought of it made her crack a slight smile. Percy caught Annabeth’s smile and returned it. 

Her stomach did another somersault.

“Why not?” Percy turned back to Luther, who just replied with a shrug. 

“Whatever man.” He clapped a hand on Percy’s shoulder, and waved for Annabeth and Grover to come up. As he opened the front door, he shot a final look at Percy and said, “Give your dad hell for me, yeah?” 

Percy grinned. “I’ll get you out of here one day, Luther,” he said, and then led the three of them inside. 

It was a mistake. 

_ CRACK! _

Annabeth stiffened all over. 

_ CRACK! _

She shouldn’t be here. 

_ CRACK! _

She shouldn’t have come. 

_ CRACK! _

She should’ve_ — _

_ “What the fuck are you doing?” _Percy stormed ahead. 

They were in a small room, lit only with a single dangling fluorescent light overhead that washed the space with a harsh glow. The walls were covered with an old, peeling, green wallpaper that was punctuated with a few holes, revealing the inner paneling underneath. The carpet was grey, stained with a variety of different dark spots alongside one that suspiciously looked like a handprint. At the back of the room stood an office desk and chair, and the wall was lined with filing cabinets. Beer bottles were strewn all over the surface of the desk, and in the center sat a pile of half-finished cigarettes in a dirty ashtray.

At every corner of the room stood another heavyset guard, and Annabeth would bet her last breath that none of them were as friendly as Luther. They were taller, bigger, and looked a lot scarier, but still she noticed the beads of sweat trickling down their faces. 

Annabeth was mortified. She stole a glance at Grover and saw him shaking. 

“Get the fuck off me!” the man at the center of the room shouted as Percy wrestled the whip away from his hands. Blood dripped off the serrated tip and oozed onto the floor. 

Another man was on the floor, naked and curled into a fetal position. His eyes bulged out of his skull, red veins popping out of the whites of them, and his mouth was agape with foam frothing out the side of it. Fresh, oozing wounds from the whip covered his entire body, turning the areas affected a puffy red, while his face was ghastly pale. His body was rigid with shock, but the rise and fall of his chest still proved he was alive.

Annabeth wanted to throw up. 

“This bastard’s been skimmin’ money from me!” 

_ This was Percy’s father? _

He kicked at the man on the floor. 

If he was, Annabeth couldn’t see the resemblance. This guy was stout and ugly, standing a few inches shorter than Percy. He wore a poorly-fitted pinstripe suit that emphasized his beer belly, and an unlit cigar sat inside the chest pocket of his jacket while a lit cigarette sat between his teeth. He was bald, save for three strands of hair that was combed over an otherwise barren scalp, with a nose that reminded Annabeth of a rat, and a double chin to top it off. 

“Get the _ fuck— _ ” Percy shoved him backwards, “ _ away _from him, Gabe! How much did he owe you?”

Gabe stumbled backwards and hit the edge of his desk. “A thousand,” he spat. 

Percy pulled out a leather wallet and thumbed through his bills. Then he took out a small stack_ — _ Annabeth saw that they were hundred dollar bills _ — _and threw them at Gabe. “There’s your money. Now let him go.” He glared at one of the guards who was holding a wad of clothes. The guard seemed to shrink under Percy’s harsh gaze, and he swiftly moved towards the center of the room, scooped up the man on the floor, and headed out the front door.

“Piece of _ shit!” _ Gabe called out. “Don’t you _ ever _show your face here again or you’re dead!” He looked over Percy and shook a fist.

“Let it go,” Percy seethed, and he tossed the whip that was still in his hands to the side. 

Gabe glared at Percy. He huffed, patted down the wrinkles in his suit, and lumbered to the other side of his desk. Gabe plopped down into his chair and took out the cigarette in his mouth, crushing it in his ashtray before taking out the cigar from his pocket and pulling out a lighter. “To what do I owe this _ pleasure _,” he hissed, “of seeing my son today, Perseus?”

_ Perseus? _

Then Gabe’s eyes flickered to Annabeth and Grover, who had pressed themselves against the back wall. His gaze particularly lingered over Annabeth, and there was a maniacal glint in his eyes that reminded her too much of the beta vampire that had forced himself on her. 

She immediately hated Percy Jackson’s father.

“Where’s Tyson?” Percy demanded coldly. 

“Not even a ‘Hi, Dad’?”

“Cut the bullshit.”

Gabe scoffed and leaned back in his chair. “Where’s Tyson?” he repeated Percy’s words. “Shit, I’d like to know that too!” He brought his cigar to his lips, inhaled, and then puffed out a plume of smoke. Then Gabe gestured to the three remaining guards in the room and said, “Get my son and his two friends a couple of seats here, will ya?”

The three guards nodded and promptly disappeared through a door in the back-right corner of the room. After a few seconds, they reemerged with three folding chairs and assembled them in the space in front of Gabe’s desk. After the guards scurried off to opposite sides of the room at their original positions, Gabe motioned for Percy, Annabeth, and Grover to sit down. 

Annabeth found the tips of her fingers instinctually hovering over the outline of her knife when she sat. She noticed Grover slightly scoot his chair closer to hers before settling, while Percy spun his around so he could sit backwards on his seat. 

Gabe redirected his attention to Grover and Annabeth. “Got tired of riding solo, huh kid?” Then he flashed a shit-eating grin, eyes dancing between them. “Finally got your own bitch. And who’s this guy in the clown pants?”

“Go to hell,” Annabeth found herself hissing. Then she leaned forward and crossed her arms over her knees, trying to seem as intimidating as possible though inside her bones were rattling. “Where’d you send Tyson to do your little dirty work this time?”

Honestly, that question was a shot in the dark, but Gabe seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t get his hands dirty unless he had a score to settle. The sheer number of guards he kept around for all the grunt work was proof of that. 

Then Annabeth’s eyes flickered to the nametag on Gabe’s desk. 

_G. Ugliano._

How fitting. 

“Got a mouth on her, eh?” Gabe continued to only address Percy. “Y’know_ — _”

Frustrated, Annabeth slipped her dagger out of her jeans and swiped, catching the tip on Gabe’s cigar that was held between his teeth and pinning it on the desk, right between his index and middle finger.

“Answer me when I talk to you.”

Percy and Grover gaped. 

Gabe’s grin, though still pretentiously wide, wavered, and his complexion paled a few shades lighter. He pulled his hand off the table surface and cleared his throat. Then he gently removed Annabeth's knife from the desk, retrieved his cigar, and placed the blade back into the wooden indent. “Alright then.”

Annabeth yanked her knife out and resheathed it in her jeans. 

Gabe nervously loosened the collar of his suit. “Had a client I loaned a couple of G’s to. I sent Tyson to, y’know, give him a little reminder. But you know the kid! Too much of a pacifist.” He sank into his seat dejectedly. “Just wanted him to rough ‘em up a little! But_ — _”

“But what?” Annabeth could see that Percy was livid.

It was a little amusing to see a man as cruel as Gabe look a little forlorn. “He still isn’t back. I’m thinking one of my competitors may have ambushed him on the way there or back. But he’s a werewolf! Kid can be a fuckin’ _ devil _ if he wanted to be, but no!” He leaned onto his desk and knitted his fingers together, eyebrows scrunched together in thought.

“How long ago was this?” Grover had finally built up the courage to speak.

Gabe’s eyes swept over Grover, still a little confused by whatever the Mist had to show him, but resigned himself to replying to the satyr. “A month ago.”

Percy stood up and threw his chair at a nearby wall. “_ Fuck you!” _ He paced around, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Tyson’s fucking _ missing _ and you haven’t done _ shit _ to go save him this whole time?”

Then, for some reason, Gabe ignored Percy’s outburst and said, “Looking pale there, son.”

Percy tensed.

”Are you—“

“That’s not important right now.”

Gabe stared at Percy for a few more seconds, like he was trying to make up his mind about something. Then a look of dismissal crossed his face, and he shrugged. “It’s not like it’s the first time one of my sons just upped and disappeared on me, after all.” His eyes narrowed at Percy. He sat back in his chair, then shook his head and said, “Was planning on giving Luther the job instead, but… kid’s just so _ determined, _y’know? To be just like his big brother.”

Annabeth watched Percy scowl.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. That’s not relevant right now.” Grover waved his hand nonchalantly at Gabe like he didn’t just see someone get whipped to near-death just now. He tapped a finger on the desk. “What _ we _ need to know right now, is _ where _did you send Tyson off to?”

Gabe took another puff from his cigar. “Stockton.”

_ Stockton? _ Annabeth thought. _ That’s an hour and a half from Camp Jupiter. _ She mentally sighed. If she really, _ really _ needed to bring others into where they were heading, then she could probably ask for help from Hazel, Frank, and Reyna over at Oakland. 

Annabeth gritted her teeth. _ That’ll be a last resort. _

“Alright,” Percy said definitively. “We’re going to Stockton.”

Gabe’s shoulders slacked, and he let out a heaving sigh that reeked of smoke. Then he nodded. “Take Luther with you," he grumbled. "He already has the details on my client.” 

It was strange, Annabeth noted, seeing someone so filthy actually express concern. And it was even more strange watching Percy and Gabe exchange determined glances, even for the briefest of moments, to set aside their complete and utter hatred for each other for the sake of saving someone they care about. 

Questions swirled inside Annabeth’s mind like a cesspool. The more time she spent with Percy, the more confusing he became. Not _ only _ was he a part time vampire hunter and barista, but he was also the son of a loan shark. How on _ earth _did Sally Jackson even get involved with a man like Gabe?

Then Annabeth glanced Grover and saw a look on his face that matched hers. No doubt he was thinking about something similar. Empathy links were cool like that. 

But still, Grover only knew the tip of the iceberg of everything Annabeth had to say. Before they embark on their journey to Stockton, she decided she’ll tell him everything. She _ had _to. 

Her fingers unconsciously drifted upwards to toy with the hem of her shawl. 

“If Percy’s a vampire hunter…” she mused. “...and Tyson’s a werewolf, then what are you?”

Gabe broke out a wide, petrifying, toothy grin that reminded Annabeth of the Cheshire Cat. Then he leaned forward and placed both elbows on his desk, holding his cigar with his index and middle finger. His cold eyes swept over Annabeth once more, like a predator testing the waters for prey, and said, “All human, baby. The worst monster there is.”


	8. Grovers and Machetes

“Luther!” Gabe called. 

The front entrance swung slightly and Luther’s head popped in. “Yeah boss?” 

Gabe made a beckoning motion with his hand and Luther proceeded inside. He lumbered over to the front of the room, stole a confused glance at the destroyed chair rested against the leftmost wall, then took a stand beside Percy. 

With Luther standing so close, Annabeth finally took the time to analyze the guardsman’s features. He was tall—about as tall as Percy—and heavily armored with flesh and muscle. He was a bald man with a roguish expression, and his outfit was similar to Percy’s except that Luther’s white tee was a V-neck, and his dark jeans was free of coffee stains. When Luther crossed his arms, the large, expensive-looking wrist watch above his right hand glinted in the light, and he heavily reminded Annabeth of Vin Diesel in the_ Fast and Furious _ movies. 

Gabe brought his cigar to his lips and seconds later puffed out another gray plume. Annabeth idly stared at the wounded thing, as small crumbs of tobacco spilled out the hole her knife had made when she impaled it against the wooden surface. “Percy and his… pals,” Gabe muttered, folding his fingers above the desk and resting his chin on top. “...are going to search for Tyson. I need you to escort them.”

Luther’s face immediately turned grim. Then he looked to Percy, who shared the same dark expression, and turned back to Gabe. “Alright. It’ll be a day-long trip.”

Gabe nodded. “Good.”

Annabeth fidgeted in her seat. She’d been through a lifetime of quests to know that their trip most certainly will _ not _ be completed in a day. The amount of times she and her companions had been sidetracked while on a quest was too high to keep track of. The Lotus Hotel, Medusa, Circe’s Island, the _ Athena Parthenos _ for gods’ sakes. It was like an unwritten rule in the Greek/Roman world that demigods weren’t allowed to catch a fucking break.

Gabe cleared his throat and leaned back into his seat. He folded his hands over his beer belly and said, “Why don’t you go take these two out and give ‘em the 101 of what we’re dealing with, yeah? I need to have a private chat with Perseus.”

_ There it is again. _ Annabeth’s brows knit, and she looked at Percy. His arms were crossed over his chest, and Annabeth wasn’t sure if he was glaring knives at his father or at the desk in front of him. Gabe was right; Percy _ was _starting to look a little pale, and Annabeth could spot tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead, like the ones she’d get whenever she got a fever. He looked both furious and calm, and if she stared long enough it seemed like his sea glass eyes were getting darker, blacker, like wine red… 

She felt a gentle tug on her sleeve and saw Grover. He gestured to Luther who was already heading towards the entrance, and Annabeth nodded as the three of them exited the building. 

Sweat started to pool on the skin underneath her scarf, and Annabeth was hyper-aware of the sound of her own footsteps as she crossed the carpet. She tried to make it seem like she wasn’t hurrying, but the feeling of Percy and Gabe’s eyes on her back burned holes into her skin. 

“Now, son—” Gabe’s voice was cut by the metal grate door swinging shut. 

Annabeth stepped off the front porch, and the gravel floor crunched beneath her feet. Luther led her and Grover around the square building and to the back end, which opened up to a long lot of concrete where rows of storage garages marched off in every direction. 

“I don’t suppose there’s a car in each one of these, is there?” Annabeth murmured. 

Luther snorted. They turned a corner and continued walking. “Nah, Gabe has a separate lot for that. The only cars here are mine, Percy’s, and the other guards’.”

“Didn’t we get here in Percy’s car?” Grover asked.

Annabeth shook her head. “No, Sally lent us her spare.”

“Knowing Percy, he’s either gonna want us to take his car for the trip, or never let any of us near it,” Luther chuckled. “Swear, it’s the only thing the kid loves besides his mom.”

In spite of her nervousness, that small comment made Annabeth grin. “Yeah? How long have you known him?”

“Since he was in diapers,” he said wistfully. 

They continued down the seemingly endless row of storage. There didn’t seem to be any identifying markers or labels showing what housed what, but Luther appeared to be perfectly aware of where he was headed. 

“Goofy fuckin’ kid growin’ up,” he continued. “Always getting into trouble. Been kicked out of more schools than I can count.”

That wasn’t too hard to imagine. Whenever Percy wasn’t scowling, he had the smile of a delinquent. Like someone who’d stir up trouble for fun. Annabeth almost laughed at the thought of it.

Luther’s voice started faltering. “Then—well… I’m sure you know.”

Annabeth stiffened. “No, I don’t.”

Luther paused so abruptly that Grover ran into him. The satyr stumbled backwards into Annabeth, and Annabeth stumbled backwards onto the floor. 

“Agh, sorry!” Grover held out his hand.

Annabeth groaned. She pushed herself forward to sit up, and rubbed at her freshly healed wrist that still ached from injury previous nights ago. Then she tentatively grasped at Grover’s outstretched hand, and was hauled back up to her feet. 

Luther scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Sorry ‘bout that...”

“Annabeth,” she replied while dusting off her jeans. “He’s Grover.”

“Sorry ‘bout that Annabeth and Grover. Anyways, this is it.” 

Luther grabbed the handle of the storage door and pulled upwards, lifting the metal sheet above their heads where it rolled and receded into the garage ceiling. 

“Oh my…”

“...gods.”

They were awestruck.

“Loaning money is only_ half _ of what Gabe does.” Luther placed his hands on his hips, and Annabeth wasn’t sure by his expression if he was admiring the view or abhorring it. “The other half,” he mumbled, “well, let’s just say he’s managed to turn _ monster hunting _into a business.”

Annabeth swallowed down a lump in her throat. 

Before them was one of the largest, most comprehensive display of monster-defense, monster-attack, and monster-prevention weaponry and artillery Annabeth had ever seen. 

On the rightmost wall stood a single row of shelves that stood as tall as the ceiling, filled to the brim with an array of objects that Annabeth could just _ feel _the magical power radiate from them. From just a glance, she spotted a crystal ball, bones from unknown creatures, glowing stones, preserved jars, wooden staffs, engraved jewelry, colorful potions, an absurd amount of salt, and a wand that suspiciously looked like the Elder Wand from the Harry Potter movies.

On the left wall was a huge collection of monster-hunting arms, ranging from swords to knives to bows to crossbows to spears to axes to hammers to batons to scimitars; anything that could cut, pierce, or bludgeon you to death hung on those walls. Some looked like they came from medieval Europe, while others were decorated with patterned fabric, leather, or ribbons belonging to the culture they came from. 

Beneath the bladed and blunt-force weapons hung a smaller display for modern arms, ranging from handguns like Annabeth’s pistol, to long guns one would more likely be able to find in trench warfare. (And there might have even been a rocket launcher sitting casually amid the mix.) A passive thought in the back of Annabeth's mind told her that her father would have probably lost his marbles at the sight of this. 

Annabeth also couldn’t help but think about Camp Jupiter and the Roman fascination with warfare. Though this little storage unit couldn’t hold a candle to the armory back at Reyna’s camp, this display of weaponry felt a lot more sinister than Annabeth would have liked to admit. Instead of disarray, everything here was meticulously placed and organized, labeled and tagged, down to the smallest object. There was a cold aura in how everything was displayed—the same way that the sterile, white hallways of a hospital seemed foreboding—and nothing about this place felt very welcoming. 

“Every culture’s got someone to handle their own monsters,” Luther mused. “But us? We clean up whatever ends up… _ falling through the cracks _, I should say, as long as someone hires us.”

Annabeth nodded, piecing the bits of information together like a puzzle. 

_ The weapons. _

_ The monsters. _

_ A business. _

Then realization hit her like a jolt of lightning. “You’re hitmen.”

Luther nodded. “We usually go by ‘_ hunters’ _.”

The three proceeded inside. Luther placed his hands on his hips and whistled. “_ Yeeup _ ,” he said heartily. “Finest collection of monster hunting gear you’ll ever need. Took Gabe nearly two decades to assemble this work of art, but you’re not gonna find stuff of _ this _ quality anywhere else in the Northern Hemisphere.” He started walking to the weapons display and picked up a silver revolver, weighing it in his hands and then taking out the cylinder to inspect the rounds inside. 

Annabeth shivered. Suddenly the pistol in her possession felt ten times heavier. 

“Now tell me,” Luther said, clicking the cylinder back into place and setting the gun back onto its display hook, “what kinda monsters we dealing with today?”

“Vampires. And ghouls,” Annabeth answered. Then she lifted the bottom of her gray hoodie and revealed the pistol Percy had given her, tucked into the hem of her jeans. “Percy gave me this, and we brought a dozen or so boxes of blessed bullets with us.” 

Then her gaze drifted above the firearm display and at the bladed tools, reminded of Percy’s main choice of weapon being a sword. 

Annabeth shivered again. It was too unnerving how much his sword reminded her of Riptide. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw it, and where Luke had disposed of it when he started using Backbiter. Riptide _ was _ a sword that would return in the form of a pen inside the pocket of whoever possessed it, but whoever owned it _ now _was an unanswered question.

Luther nodded approvingly. “Vampires, huh?” He turned back to the weapons display, crossing his arms and squinting. “Looks like you’re already strapped for the ride, Miss Annabeth, which leaves…“ 

His voice faltered as he swept over the collection. There was silence for a few moments until an _ Aha! _ came out, and Luther reached over and picked up a gnarly-looking machete. It was about one and a half foot long, decorated with a serrated blade edge and a leather bound grip. He held it up tenderly, blew off the dust, and presented it to Grover.

The satyr’s jaw dropped.

Luther looked concerned. “No?” 

Annabeth was amused. It was the most _ un-Grover _-like weapon she’d ever seen. 

Grover frantically patted himself until he pulled out his reed pipes. “I-I already have a weapon!” he laughed nervously.

Luther stared.

Grover stared back.

“It’s a stick.”

“It’s a pan flute!”

The satyr played a little tune that vaguely sounded like _ Hey Now _ by Hillary Duff, and a three-foot tall sunflower sprouted through the concrete beside him and swayed along happily to the music. 

Luther looked at the sunflower for a few seconds, pondering its existence, and then shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat.” Then he put the machete back, looking a little disappointed that it wouldn’t be put to use. 

Annabeth gazed at the weapons collection once more. “Say,” she began, a little cautiously. “Is there anything here that’s Greek?”

Luther’s tilted his head and he squinted at the air in thought. “Hmm,” he hummed. “There _ was _that one thing… no, wait, that was Scandinavian. Maybe the…? Nope, nope, that was from England. Hmm…” He thought for a few more moments, and then he shook his head. “Nah, don’t think so. Haven’t seen a Greek weapon in a long time. Sorry Ma’am.”

Grover nervously tucked his reed pipes away, prompting the sunflower to recede back into the hole it sprouted from. “How do you even kill a vampire, anyway?” 

“Head or heart,” said a voice behind them. 

Annabeth and Grover turned around to see Percy standing at the entrance of the unit. 

“Particularly not fond of anything silver, holy, or on fire,” Percy continued, stepping inside, “but if you can cut off the head or hit the heart, you’re good to go.”

Percy was grinning an amused sideways smile, and it looked like the color came back to his face. Whatever he and his father had spoken about, it seemed to calm him down. Percy looked a lot less pale than he did before and, though it may have been a trick of the light, perhaps even more… restored. 

Annabeth gulped. Despite the fact that all he had done up to that moment was protect her, and go as far as even _ trust _ her, there was still something about Percy that felt particularly unsettling to her. But what?

Luther jabbed a thumb in Grover’s direction. “This guy has a pan flute.”

Percy shrugged. “Good enough. We’ll use the machete next time.”

Luther looked disappointed. “Alright. Which car we takin’?”

“Are you kidding? Mine.”

* * *

Percy drove 1969 blue Chevrolet Impala. Annabeth laughed when she first saw it; not because of how it looked, but just _ how much _ Percy paralleled Dean Winchester from that one _ Supernatural _show she and her cabin mates would watch in the Big House from time to time. 

They transferred their belongings from Sally’s car into Percy’s, and opted to leave Sally’s Honda Civic back with Gabe to pick up once they completed their quest. _ If _they completed their quest. Percy drove with Luther in the front passenger seat, while Annabeth and Grover resigned to sitting in the back. At that point it was the early evening, and it was decided they’d stay the night in a nearby motel to figure out a game plan before setting out to Stockton the next morning. 

_ Motel 6 _was the name of the motel that was chosen. It was a dirty, dinghy-looking place that would be kind on their wallets, with faded, beige-colored walls and a chipping orange painted on the bedroom doors. The insides of their rooms were neat, but dusty, with two beds occupying one space, a TV set that looked like it came from the early 2000s, and a cramped bathroom space with a shower that spat out low-pressure water. Annabeth and Grover would share one room, while Luther and Percy occupied the one next door. 

Annabeth threw her backpack on top of her bed, while Percy handed Grover a duffle bag full of old clothes for the satyr to wear. 

“I pulled these out of one of dad’s storage units. Wore them back from when I was in high school, so sorry if they don’t fit,” Percy said a little sheepishly.

Grover sat on his bed and unzipped the duffle. Then he pulled out a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and sniffed at it. “Smells old, but they seem like they fit. Thanks.”

Percy nodded. Then he turned to Annabeth, who sat cross-legged atop her bed. “Everything okay?”

Annabeth gave a weak smile in return, and did a mental inventory check of everything she was able to snag out of her apartment before they left town. She always had a backpack filled with spare clothes, toiletries, ambrosia, her Yankees invisibility cap—which no longer worked, by the way, after her mother Athena practically disowned her—and drachmas for emergencies like this one. Annabeth also mentally thanked herself for emailing her professors at the last minute that she’d be needing some deadline extensions for her “family emergency”. The benefits to being a stellar student (and manipulating the Mist, of course) meant that she had the rare pleasure of putting college on hold whenever needed. 

“Yeah,” she finally answered, after going through her invisible checklist. “All okay, for now.”

Percy nodded again. “Luther and I are going to grab us all dinner. See you guys in a bit.”

When the bedroom door finally swung shut, both Annabeth and Grover let out a simultaneous breath of relief.

“Alright,” Grover sighed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What else haven’t you mentioned?”

Annabeth felt a little stupefied, until she remembered the empathy link she shared with Grover. She really couldn’t hide anything from him, even if she wanted to.

_ Percy knows when you’re not being honest too. _

She shoved the violating thought to the back of her head, and faced Grover. “Alright,” she said. “_ Now, _I’m going to tell you everything.”

And she did. About how Percy beheaded her three attackers that first night, him being vague about his identity, and his strange connection to the Greeks. She particularly emphasized on how he was already familiar with Artemis and her hunters because he kept a hellhound for a pet, that his sword would turn back into a pen just as how _Riptide _ would do the same, and the most troubling coincidence of his full first name being _ Perseus _. Annabeth explained why she deliberately wanted to keep Camp Half-Blood a secret from Percy, partly because she wasn’t sure how both parties would react upon meeting, and partly because she was suspicious at how quick Percy was to trusting her.

The whole situation was strange. It was like Percy and their Greek life were two different poles of a magnet interacting—two completely different worlds crash landing together by an unseen force. Annabeth couldn’t help but hypothesize that, even though going on this quest with Percy and dragging Grover along with them was perhaps the most impulsive and_ unwise _ thing a child of Athena could ever do, the gods were _ wanting _this to happen. If everything she’d done so far was going against some sort of Greek law, shouldn’t the gods have interfered by now? It wouldn’t be the first time the Olympians would be pulling some puppet-demigod strings to carry out some sort of higher-meaning objective. She even got a _prophecy, _for Zeus' sakes! It was exhausting to think about.

Grover nodded and listened patiently the whole time, agreeing with the points Annabeth was making, and supplementing with his own commentary from time to time. Once she was done, Grover was silent for a few moments, seemingly tossing and turning the bits of information in his own head for him to digest. Annabeth felt nervous. 

“This makes me wonder…” Grover said quietly. “About the… what Luther said.”

“Yeah.” Annabeth slumped forward and looked down at her hands. She had a feeling that when Grover bumped into Luther earlier, it wasn’t because he was clumsy. Luther might have been… shocked, to say the least, but covered it up to save some face. “Something happened to Percy when he was younger,” Annabeth concluded, and she gritted her teeth. “And I have a feeling it’s what started this all.”


	9. The Gods

Luther crumpled up the last of his In-N-Out wrapper and tossed it into a nearby waste bin. Grover was at the foot of Percy’s bed, munching on his grilled cheese, while Annabeth sat cross-legged on the carpet and stared at her blank phone screen.

“Still nothing?” Grover asked.

Annabeth shook her head. “Nothing. I was able to contact my professors a few hours ago, but… I don’t know. None of my texts, DM’s, and even _ emails _ are going through now. Nothing’s getting sent to me either.”

“Hmm,” Grover hummed. He set down his grilled cheese and slurped at a pink lemonade drink. 

Luther raised his arms above his head and stretched. Then he plopped down onto his bed, and let out a yawn. “So, the Greek Gods, huh?” he said. 

Annabeth nodded sadly. “The Greek Gods,” she repeated. “Grover and I are off the grid for a while, at least until this quest is done.”

Grover snorted. “Remember when Apollo got turned into a human? We couldn’t IM for _ months _.”

“Gods, don’t remind me.”

The bathroom door clicked open as Percy entered the room, rubbing a towel against his newly washed hair. He had changed into a black PJ bottom and an AC/DC band shirt. “Guess you’re stuck with me for a while,” he said with a smug grin. 

Annabeth rolled her eyes. 

“Not hungry?” Percy asked.

She turned to her In-N-Out bag that sat, still untouched, beside her. Tentatively, Annabeth reached in and pulled out her burger. She didn’t feel hungry. “No,” she sighed. Then she turned to Luther. “Want it?”

“Hell yeah.”

Percy sat down on his bed next to Grover. “At least eat the fries. You’ll need the energy.”

Annabeth obliged. 

“So the plan?” Grover asked, finishing the last of his lemonade. “Retrace Tyson’s steps to Stockton, Percy and I follow his scent, and see where it takes us?”

Everyone simultaneously nodded. It wasn’t much, but hey, most of Annabeth’s quests started off this way anyways. Here’s a vague direction of where the bad people are. Now go save Olympus! 

“I’ve never seen someone so grumpy while munching on a fry.”

“I’m thinking.”

Luther burped, signaling that he had already finished his second burger. (Though how he managed to in such a short amount of time was beyond Annabeth.) He crumpled up the wrapper into a little ball, and free-threw it into the waste bin. “Well, _ I’m _ going to do my thinking while I sleep,” he said, gathering a small plastic bag with a toothbrush and a glasses case from his duffel and proceeding inside the bathroom. 

Annabeth cracked a small grin. The way Luther vaguely reminded her of Coach Hedge made her feel nostalgic. Then she dusted her hands and grabbed her fast food bag. “We should head back, Grover.”

Grover nodded, and the four of them bade each other goodnight.

As Annabeth shut Percy and Luther’s bedroom door behind her, Grover asked, “Mind if I shower first? Kinda been sleeping on dirt for the last few nights.”

“No worries. I think I’ll stay out here and enjoy the fresh air for a bit.”

Grover nodded, and proceeded inside their room next door.

Annabeth let out a sigh and walked towards the balcony that wound around the motel. She crossed her arms over the handrail and inhaled, letting the chilly night air fill her lungs before letting out a heaving breath. She continued to do so a few more times, until the exchange of oxygen started to make her feel lightheaded. Then she was dizzy, but at least she managed to calm herself down. 

Annabeth gulped as she peered over the ledge of the handrail. Their bedrooms were on the second story, but it wasn’t the height that made her nervous. Not being able to contact the other demigods really put a nail through her chest, and now the situation seemed even _ more _ real than it had ever been. Disconnected, just like when she was in Tartarus. 

Annabeth looked up at the sky. It was 9 PM at that point, and stars blanketed the black expanse above. She thought about Piper, then Jason, then Leo, then Nico, then Will, then Chiron, until it spiraled downwards to everyone she’d known and could remember. Everyone she’d ever lost.

_ Because of me, _ Annabeth thought with a bitter pang. The inside of her chest twisted, and she felt like an old towel wrung dry. So many deaths, so many sacrifices, all under her own name. If she’d known that _ she _ would be the one to fulfill the Great Prophecy so many years ago, before entering Camp Half-Blood, well, maybe Annabeth would’ve been happier as a pine tree. (Sorry Thalia.) Then she croaked out a laugh that sounded more like a whimper. What the hell was she even doing there? What the hell were the gods doing _ to _her? 

A shooting star drifted across the sky before vanishing seconds later, and that little burst of light was enough to remind Annabeth of just _ what _ she was looking at. The moon. The stars. Whenever she saw them, she could only think of two people. Or rather, two friends. 

_ “Tell the sun and stars hello for me,” _ Bob the Titan had told her, right before he and Damasen sacrificed themselves in the depths of Tartarus.

“Hello,” she whispered to the stars up above. 

_ Bob says hi _, she thought.

“Hey,” a voice said behind her.

Annabeth whirled around to see Percy, just as he was reaching behind him to shut his bedroom door. “Oh shit,” she said before she even realized it. “I didn’t know you were there.”

There was a brief pause and a puzzled look on Percy’s face. “Oh,” he replied. “Who were you talking to?”

Annabeth tilted her head in thought, then turned back around to gaze at the sky. “The stars,” she answered clumsily. 

Percy’s face softened into an amused grin. “Alright,” he said. “Mind if I join you?”

“Go ahead.”

He took a spot beside her and rested his arms on the handrailing. For a while, they stood next to each other in a shared silence, and the only sound that filled up the space between them was the steady hum of cars passing by the motel. Somewhere nearby, a cricket started chirping, and a few more joined in chorus. Percy’s presence was pleasant. Comforting, even, and they shared no words until he decided to break the stilled air. 

“Are you used to this?”

Annabeth kept her eyes glued upwards. Within the last few hours she’d noticed that she had a _ very _ bad habit of staring at Percy whenever he wasn’t looking. Now she felt his eyes on her, and her heart rate started to go up again. So much for those breathing exercises. “Used to what?”

Percy let out an airy laugh. “Let’s see,” he said. “Trusting your life with someone you’ve only known for, like, two days? Going on a…. what did you guys call it… oh—a _ quest _ with complete strangers?”

Annabeth felt herself smile, and she allowed herself to turn and look at Percy. Her breath hitched when she saw his bright, sea green eyes contrast with the dim world around them, staring right at her. 

As nervous as she felt _ about him _, being around him seemed to feel right. Safe. 

“Actually, yeah,” she said. “When I was in Tartarus—”

Percy’s eyes widened. 

_Shit_.

“_ Tartarus?” _he exclaimed. “As in, the place even _Mrs. O’Leary_ wouldn’t go to?”

Annabeth swallowed down a nervous laugh. “Gods, it’s a long story. But uh, yeah, Tartarus. Hell. I literally went to Hell and back. Yup.”

As ridiculous as saying it out loud sounded to her, Percy seemed to believe it. He stood there, staring at Annabeth with a vague expression. He looked more disheartened than impressed, like he, too, on some other wavelength, understood what Tartarus could have been like. What his version of Hell was. His eyes gave Annabeth the same feeling whenever she and another demigod would exchange glances after a long, exhausting battle—someone who’s lived to see too much.

Annabeth felt prompted to continue. “The only reason I survived is because of a friend I made down there. _ Friends _ , actually. I’ve spent my whole life up until that point fighting them—their kind. One of them was a Titan, and the other was a Giant. I gambled my lifeline on them. Then they gave their lives to save mine.” She turned back at the stars, and a heavy weight, like an anchor, started to form in the middle of her chest at the thought of them. “Right before they died, one of them told me to say hello to the sun and stars for them once I made it out.” Then she let out a wary chuckle. “ _ That’s _ what I was saying hello to.”

Percy’s prolonged silence told Annabeth to keep going. 

“I guess you can say that being the daughter of Athena gives me a decent read when I first meet people. But it’s not_ just _ that,” she emphasized. “You’re a pawn for the gods, so whoever you meet is never a coincidence. If you want to survive as a demigod, you have to get good at figuring out other people’s ulterior motives.” 

Then she dared herself to look back at Percy. “You saved my life back there. And now I have a prophecy for a quest to save your brother. Somehow, for _some higher order reason that won’t be revealed until later on_,” she said tiredly, “you and I were supposed to meet, back in that alley. I’m supposed to help you, and somehow that’s going to help me. I think that makes you more than a stranger, Percy Jackson.”

At first, nothing was said once Annabeth had concluded her answer to Percy’s question. 

Then, in a tone of wonder that she hadn’t been expecting, Percy said, “I’m glad I found you, Annabeth Chase.”

* * *

Her lungs were burning. Her muscles were screaming. Annabeth was running for her life. 

Except she wasn’t _ herself _ . She’d experienced enough extrospective dreams throughout her long twenty years as a demigod to know when she was viewing things from the perspective of a different body. In this case, however, Annabeth wasn’t sure _ whose _ memory she was reliving.

Heavy, sprinting footsteps padded beside her. On her right, matching her running pace, was a hellhound about the size of a tank. It looked like a smaller version of Cerberus, with one head of course, which Annabeth had tamed in the Underworld back when Zeus still thought Poseidon stole his Master Bolt. (Good times.) Though Annabeth had the feeling that they were both in a life or death situation, the hellhound seemed to be happily jogging alongside her, slobbery tongue in the breeze and a tail wagging behind it. 

“We gotta shadow travel outta here!” Annabeth yelled in a voice that wasn’t hers.

Her heart leapt into her throat. This was one of _ Percy’s _ memories, and the hellhound beside her must have been Mrs. O’Leary. 

Annabeth focused, and managed to shift her perspective so now she viewed the memory from an objective point of view. She floated upwards to get a bird’s eye view, and saw Percy and Mrs. O’Leary sprinting through a dense forest in early nightfall, where the sky was just beginning to fade from a burning orange into a looming black.

Percy was a mess. He was dressed in dark jeans and a grey t-shirt, both articles of clothing with either a stain or tear at every inch. Twigs and leaves poked out from Percy’s black hair, and his arms were covered in scrapes and cuts. Dried blood ran down a nasty laceration from his shoulder and plastered his shirt to his side, while Annabeth noticed a slight limp in his right leg whenever he put pressure on it. 

With an inaudible gasp, Annabeth saw an arrow jut out from his right hamstring. How on earth was he still able to run?

Percy’s eyes were wild and frantic, like he was a feral animal that had been caged his whole life and had finally managed to escape. But it wasn’t freedom he seemed to be running towards—no, he was _ running away_. 

He pulled out a hunting knife that was strapped to his thigh and swiped at the arrow stem behind his leg. With a wince, the shaft was cut off, but the movement had reopened the wound and blood started pooling underneath his jeans. 

Then Percy grasped at the Mrs. O’Leary’s fur and managed to grab a thick tuft. Still sprinting beside the hellhound, he prepared to launch onto Mrs. O’Leary’s back, and was halfway through swinging himself over until something struck his right forearm, and he promptly tumbled to the ground.

Mrs. O’Leary continued running for a few more paces until she realized that Percy was no longer beside her. Then she skidded to a halt and bounded over beside Percy, where he lay crumpled on the ground, clutching at a new arrow that was lodged inside his right forearm. 

“_ Fuck!” _ he howled, a desperate cry that rolled throughout the forest. 

Then dark figures started to appear from behind the trees, steadily surrounding around Percy until he was trapped in the center of a circle. Mrs. O’Leary paced around him, snarling at the attackers, while Percy wrestled at the arrow in his arm. 

His assailants were dressed in silver ski jackets, denim jeans, and black combat boots. All of them were armed with classic hunting gear, decorated the color of silver, including bows, crossbows, and knives, directed towards Percy and Mrs. O’Leary. 

“_ Please _ ,” Percy pleaded with a pained voice. He finally broke off the shaft of the arrow, and stumbled to his feet. Grimacing, he raised his arms protectively in front of Mrs. O’Leary. “Don’t hurt her,” he gasped. His words were punctuated with heaving breaths. “She didn’t—she hasn’t—done _ anything!” _

Annabeth peered closer, zooming into the scene. Tears trailed down Percy’s face, clearing out a path down the dirt on his cheeks, but his face was hard. 

In a smaller voice, he begged, “She hasn’t hurt anyone. Please. Don’t hurt her.”

Then Annabeth had a closer look at the figures around Percy. She’d undoubtably _ seen _those weapons before, and those silver jackets were too familiar to mistake… 

“Weapons down, hunters!” a booming voice called. It was feminine and strong. 

Upon command, all the weapons raised towards Percy and Mrs. O’Leary were lowered. Percy, however, remained in front of his hellhound, arms raised protectively.

A tall figure wove itself through the hunters until she broke into the circle, facing Percy. She looked around the age of a teenager, but her calculating, silvery yellow eyes betrayed an age much older. She was dressed the same as the others, but there was an aura of command that was unparalleled by the rest of them. Her body was firm and well-built, with a stature tough and lean from eons of hunting, and she had long-auburn hair pulled into a ponytail. 

Annabeth recognized her immediately. Standing just a few feet away from Percy Jackson was Artemis, Greek goddess of the wild, forest, archery, and the Moon. 

“Please,” Percy repeated in a breathy voice. “Don’t hurt Mrs. O’Leary.”

Artemis’s eyes sparkled in such a way that Annabeth couldn’t tell what the goddess could be thinking. The rest of her hunters around her were silent, though Annabeth saw that they were antsy to close in on Percy and his hellhound. They shifted on their feet, fingers clenching and unclenching around their weapons. This must’ve been a long, arduous chase, judging from the sweat pooling down their faces, and they wanted to end this as soon as possible. To finally finish off the kill. 

“Oh my…” Artemis said, her voice fading at the end. To Annabeth’s surprise, there was no malice in the goddess’s voice, despite the fact that Artemis was known to _ despise _ men at just the sight of them. Instead, she sounded shocked, and maybe just a little bit… pitiful? 

Percy seemed to be just as puzzled as Annabeth. 

“Percy Jackson,” Artemis said in a low, maybe even _ sad _, voice. “This was never supposed to be your fate.”

Then, with violent tugging similar to the feeling of having the wind knocked out of her lungs, Annabeth felt herself being pulled backwards into the sky. With dizzying speed, the forest grew smaller and smaller, and Annabeth was yanked away from the scene, away from Percy, Mrs. O’Leary, Artemis, and her hunters.

_ No! _ she tried crying out, but no voice came out.

She was pulled further, and further, and _ further _ away until she was launched into a nothingness that seemed like she was in outer space. Except she wasn’t, of course, since Annabeth was still dreaming, and from a distance she could hear a loud, periodic _ BOOM! _ echo all around her, getting louder with every burst. 

Then another scene started fading into existence right before her, and the booming noise sharpened into the discernable sound of something clanging against metal. Like a mass being thrown against a metal grate. 

_ “Release me!” _called a deep, desperate voice that sounded like both a roar and a howl.

With sickening realization, Annabeth finally understood what she was looking at. 

She was inside a huge warehouse. Struts and beams were suspended all across the ceiling, dangling unlit light fixtures throughout the room’s expanse. Metal pillars marched through the center of the floor, holding up the roof above, though some were bent at awkward angles, like something massive had ran into them and dented them. There were no windows, and so no light source streamed in, but Annabeth could still see her surroundings in her apparational form. 

The warehouse was completely bare, empty, except for a huge, metal-grated cage that stood in the center of the floor. 

Another _ BOOM! _echoed throughout the building, followed by a painful howl. Annabeth floated closer to the cage and peered inside, spotting a massive figure slumped against the corner of the box. 

_ Is that… Tyson? _ she thought. 

The figure was around six feet tall, broad shouldered, and covered in patches of dark brown fur. He was half naked, wearing only jeans and a belt, while scraps of fabric that seemed to be the remnants of a shirt were littered around the bottom of the cage. In between the matted fur, Annabeth could see huge, gaping wounds slicing down the werewolf’s back, crusting the hair around them with dried, black blood. At the bottom of his jeans, where the feet should have been, were massive paws with claws that were half a foot long at the end of each toe. When Tyson lifted his head, his dark brown eyes were distinctly human, but he had the snout of a dog and two pointed ears pulled back into a snarl. 

_ “Release me!” _Tyson boomed once more, and lifted a huge, clawed paw at the wall of his cage and swiped. His claws raked painfully against the metal grate and Annabeth winced at the sound of it, but the impact did nothing against the werewolf’s nails. Tyson's entire body rose and fell in labored breaths, and Annabeth could tell from the wounds mostly concentrated on one side that he had been trying to tackle the walls for some time now, trying to escape this metal prison. 

Annabeth looked around, panicked, try to find _ something _ to help free Tyson, though logically she knew that in her current form she could do no such thing. She had to do something. _ Anything _. 

Suddenly, the lights snapped on overhead and Tyson whimpered, scrambling to the side of his cage and huddling away from the blaring brightness. Confused, Annabeth floated away from his cage, looking around to see who had turned on the lights, when her blood ran ice cold. 

She couldn’t see it earlier in the darkness, but the whiteness above illuminated the symbol as clear as day. It was just as Percy described it to be, with a long, writhing body coiled around itself until the tail began right where the fangs were placed. It was a grotesque depiction of a serpent, posed like it was about to swallow its own tail, but it wasn’t the cannibalistic nature of the image of the snake that made Annabeth tremble. No, it was far worse than that. 

She had seen that symbol before, a long, long time ago, back when she was just a child at Camp Half-Blood. Annabeth was seven years old, studying the old myths of the Greek gods, when Chiron lent her a book specific to her parentage. Eager to learn, and so naive all the same, Annabeth _ devoured _that book cover to cover, learning all she could about her goddess mother. 

You see, Athena was a goddess of many things, namely wisdom and war for the Greeks, while the Romans hailed her as a less important figure named Minerva. A master of logic and reason, battle and strategy, arts and crafts, Annabeth’s mother was skilled in many trades. Chiefly, her symbolic animal was an owl, distinguishing her from the rest of the Olympians, but she was more than that all the same. It was a lesser known fact, and one that Annabeth had forgotten long ago, but Athena was not only known for her wisdom.

Athena was the Goddess of the Serpent.


	10. Hulk

“_ Percy…” _sobbed Tyson, jostling Annabeth’s attention back to the imprisoned werewolf. 

Though Annabeth was still frigid with fear, she willed herself back to the metal cage. Tyson was curled up in the corner, knees to his chest while his tail sat limp beside him. His shoulders jerked erratically, followed by low, indiscernible grumbles, and after a few moments Annabeth realized he was weeping. 

An overwhelming sadness spread throughout her, quickly followed by a white-hot surge of anger. If Percy saw what she was seeing right now, she had no doubt he’d lose his fucking mind. Tyson didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of this, but somehow, for some reason, his kidnapping was a crucial part of the alpha vampire’s plan. But why?

A door on the West side of the warehouse swung open.

“_ ...and this is the newest specimen for my experiment.” _

Although Annabeth knew that it was impossible for her to be seen, she dove behind Tyson’s cage. Footsteps echoed and bounced off the walls of the otherwise empty warehouse, and Annabeth recognized the unmistakable sound of heels clicking against the concrete floor alongside two sets of heavy footfalls. Tentatively, she looked around the corner at the three strangers approaching the metal cage. 

A man dressed in a white suit lead two other people to the center of the room. He had pin-straight, shoulder-length, platinum blonde hair that was trimmed sharply at an angle at both sides of his face. In front of a pair of pale blue eyes was a set of glasses, both lenses shaped like small circles, that sat atop a large, pointed nose. He had a wide, snake-like smile that curled at just the corners, and he wore his suit jacket like a cape, perched atop his shoulders over a dark grey dress shirt.

“And how on earth were you able to capture a lycanthrope, Dr. Watson?” a woman’s voice asked. It was deep and rich, and she spoke like a superior. 

The man in the white suit responded in a voice much higher and more nasal than Annabeth expected. “_ That _, my dear Helena, is all thanks to wolfy-boy over here. Right, Levi?”

The second man didn’t respond.

_ Levi _ , Annabeth repeated in her mind. _ Helena. Dr. Watson. _ Her vision zoomed into the two other figures that followed.

To the right was a tall, slender woman with hair so midnight-black Annabeth could almost convince herself that it was a dark blue. Her long, wavy locks cascaded all the way down to her hips, and she had a beautiful, porcelain face with striking red lips that unnerved Annabeth more than she could admire it. She had cold, calculating amber eyes that seemed like they could pierce anything her gaze rested on, and sharp cheekbones that emphasized her cat-eye makeup and framed a symmetrical face. Helena wore black, suede, thigh-high boots that made a _ click! _noise every time she took a step, and above that was a narrow pencil skirt below a matching black blazer. 

Everything about Helena made alarm sirens go off inside Annabeth’s head, so she shifted her focus to the man walking beside her. Levi, presumably. 

_ Wolfy-boy _ , Annabeth reminded herself. _ He’s a werewolf too? _

Levi stood at about half a foot above Helena, making him the tallest of the three. He had dark, auburn hair that framed a tanned complexion, with a lean and muscled stature like he was fresh out of boot camp. He had a hard expression; lips pulled into a straight line and focused, silver eyes that seemed to emit a mild glow and illuminate the features on his face. Levi sported dark grey jeans underneath an olive green pea coat, and when Annabeth squinted she saw a pair of white gloves peek out from the pockets his hands were shoved into.

“How much longer until the next batch of formula is completed?” Helena asked. 

Dr. Watson hummed a sing-song tune. “Three days!” he said gleefully.

_ “Three days?” _

Annabeth held her breath as the three of them reached Tyson’s cage. They were just a mere few feet away from her, but it’s not like she was really _ there _. She sent a silent prayer up to Apollo for these real-time prophetic dreams. 

“Patience is the key to _ science _,” Watson replied in a confident, reassuring voice. “In the meantime, the star of our show will remain here!” 

They peered through the metal grate. 

Annabeth was so distracted by the arrival of the three that she flinched when she heard Tyson throw himself against the side of his cage. The imprisoned werewolf let out a low, haunting growl from the depths of his throat, and he swiped an unsheathed paw at the wall facing his captors. 

Dr. Watson let out a high-pitched cackle. “_ Sorry! _The cage is made of blessed steel and silver! Unfortunately, you won’t be going anywhere, my pet.”

Tyson roared and lunged at their direction, latching his claws onto the small holes of the grated surface and snarling, _ “I’ll kill you all.” _

Helena took a step closer to the cage, seemingly unfazed by the feral Tyson inside. She scrutinized him, similar to how a teacher would inspect a guilty student, and her eyes narrowed. “A _ beta _,” she said with a hint of distaste. “Boss would have preferred an alpha.”

“_ Patience! _ ” Dr. Watson reminded her a little too frantically. “For now, a beta is more ideal! I wouldn’t want to waste a perfectly good alpha if the formula results in… _ ineffectiveness.” _

Helena wrinkled her nose. “I suppose. But an entire warehouse? For just one test subject?”

Dr. Watson’s lips curled into a maniacal smile. “There’s a reason for that.” He waved his hand at the cage with a dramatic flair. “You see, something very, _ very _ special is occurring in the next three days. I believe Levi, over here, knows what it is.” 

Levi remained silent. 

Helena crossed her arms and drummed her fingers. “The full moon.” 

“_ Precisely!” _ Then Watson clicked his tongue. _ “I _ believe the full moon will be the necessary catalyst for the formula to work. The… _ electricity _ that will awaken the monster.” He let out a laugh, though Helena and Levi’s expressions remained unchanged. “Once the formula settles and the full moon comes to peak,” Levi leaned forward and brushed a hand on the metal in front of Tyson’s snarling face, as if he was caressing him, “a _ cage _ won’t be strong enough to hold him.” 

* * *

Annabeth gasped awake in a pool of her own sweat. Her outburst was enough to make Grover stir in his bed, but then satyr returned to snoring. She turned to the window beside her to see the light of a newly rising sun come out for the day, and she threw the blankets off her body. 

“Three days,” Annabeth whispered to herself. “We only have three days.”

* * *

“But three days should be enough, right?” Luther asked from the front passenger seat. 

Annabeth bit her lip. She had relayed the details of her dream to the others once they packed up and piled into Percy’s car. She told them about the warehouse, Tyson held captive, and the three strangers responsible for his kidnapping. She detailed the strange _ formula _ that Dr. Watson kept referring to, and how it must be the reason why so many people were being turned into vampires in such a short amount of time. She told them about Watson’s plan on testing out the formula on Tyson on the night of the full moon, and how it may or may not be successful on a beta werewolf. Then she described the three strangers in detail; Helena, Dr. Watson, and Levi; in case their appearances held any resemblance to anyone they knew. 

Unfortunately, they didn’t. 

At the same time, Annabeth made sure to make the first part of her dream about Percy a secret. 

Percy glared at the road ahead of him. “It should. We’ll get to Tyson in time, and I’ll kill all three of them once we’re there. It should only take a day.”

Grover groaned in the seat beside Annabeth. “Don’t _ say _ that,” he bleated. “The _ moment _ one of us says things should go according to plan, it _ never _ does.”

“That’s true,” Annabeth sighed.

“Like how?” Percy asked. His piercing green eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror.

Annabeth gulped. Percy’s menacing wolf-stare always seemed to get ten times worse whenever he drove. She cleared her throat and answered. “We once got stuck in a hotel for five days when we thought we were there for an hour.” 

“Sometimes I do that on purpose,” Luther grunted. 

“Annabeth lost her memory for eight months,” Grover continued.

“I did the same but with drugs.”

“I was stranded in Ogygia and crashed my own funeral after making Mount Saint Helens explode.” 

The car was silent.

“Okay,” Luther said. “You win.”

“Well,” Percy said icily. “Google Maps says seven hours ‘til we reach Stockton. Plenty of time for things to go wrong.”

Grover snorted. “Yup.”

“Also,” Annabeth wondered aloud. “If they’re planning to do testing on Tyson, then that means the vampires Percy’s been finding are probably test subjects too.”

“Probably,” Percy replied grimly. 

“But testing for _ what _, though?” said Grover. “Some sort of synthetic vampire serum?”

“That’s a possibility.” 

Annabeth’s knee bounced up and down as anxiety steadily crept up her spine. There was still one detail she hadn’t yet told them. The one that scared her the most, above everything else. 

“There’s…” she began, her voice low. Quiet, like a child. She closed her eyes, shook her head, and started again. “There’s something else, too, that was in the dream.”

Everyone was silent, awaiting her response.

“The serpent insignia. It’s one of Athena’s symbols.”

No one said anything.

Until Percy did. “This was _ not _ how I wanted to meet your parents.”

Grover swallowed nervously. “_ Athena? _ But you… you haven’t been in contact with her for _ years _ after Gaia.”

Annabeth trained her gaze down to her lap, idly tracing the threads of her jeans with her eyes. On her right, she patted the area where the pistol was tucked protectively, a habit she’d quickly come to adopt whenever she felt nervous. (Which was, like, 100% of the time.) “I know,” she said. “But I’m betting money that one of my half-siblings is part of this. Maybe _ behind _ the whole thing.” 

“What makes you think that?”

“Just a feeling.”

Then Annabeth turned to her right, facing the window and watching the cars speed along in the lanes beside them. “Maybe Mom’s sending me to fix all of this. _ Whatever _ this is. Or maybe she just wants me to clean up another one of her messes.”

Luther whistled. “That’s some shit, girl.”

Annabeth nodded. It was, indeed, some shit. 

“Parents suck,” Percy supplied. His eyes were fixed on the road in front of him, but Annabeth could hear the sincerity in his voice. “Except my mom, of course. But fuck Gabe.”

“Yeah,” Grover muttered. “Fuck that guy.”

Then an idea popped up in Annabeth’s mind. It was far-fetched, but worth the try. “Is Gabe your biological dad?”

Percy shrugged. “That’s what my mom says, but I look nothing like the ugly bastard.” 

Luther belted out a hearty laugh. “Careful kid, Gabe has ears _ everywhere _.”

A flicker of hope tingled inside Annabeth’s chest. _ Maybe… just maybe… _

Then Percy slammed on the breaks. 

The air was knocked out of Annabeth’s body as her seatbelt caught her throat. Yanked back from tumbling into Luther’s seat, her head swung and slammed into the cushions behind her, leaving Annabeth dizzy for a few seconds. 

“What the hell was that for?” Grover cried, letting out a low, painful groan. He rubbed the back of his head and tugged the seatbelt off his throat. 

“We got trouble!” Luther announced, and Annabeth had half a mind to wonder why the guy sounded so damn _ excited _for some reason, but any words she had promptly disappeared at what she saw in the road ahead of them. 

_ BANG! BANG! BANG! _

Three gunshots went off in succession, followed by the sound of screeching as a car in the lane beside them swerved to an ungraceful halt. 

The middle of the roadway was cleared at about a hundred meters away, cut off by a police car parked horizontally, preventing the flow of traffic. Two policemen, it seemed, were huddled behind the cruiser, guns drawn and backs pressed firmly against the car doors. A white SUV was overturned a few more meters down the road, surrounded by a Honda Civic and a pickup truck that had both swerved and impacted the railing of the bridge highway.

_ A shootout? _

“We have to get out,” Percy commanded. 

“Oh _ hell no,” _ Grover said, crossing his arms in front of him to make an ‘X’ shape. “I keep up with the news and I do _ not _ want to get involved with police-anything!”

“Fuck the pigs,” Luther said, and Annabeth heard a small _ click! _ as he unlatched his seatbelt. He turned his head and shot a wide, sharp-toothed grin at both her and Grover. “We’re gonna have some fun now.”

Just as Annabeth opened her mouth to reply, she saw it. 

It stood as tall as three men, with a stature of a human but the limbs stretched far too long. It had black, blistering skin pulled gaunt over the rods of its skeleton, and a smoking yellow pus oozed out of the fissures on its flaking flesh. It had long, slender legs propping up a disemboweled torso, with remnants of organ spilling out of a huge cavity that exposed the ashen gray bones of the ribcage.

The monster had no eyes, but rather dark, empty caverns of black in the space above a gaping mouth. Murky red saliva dripped out in between rows of pointed teeth, and its mouth stretched so wide Annabeth wondered if the mandible might split off from the rest of its face. The monster wore no clothing, exposing the entirety of its naked, horrible being as strands of skin and muscle tendon hung limply from its limbs. 

“What is that?” she barely breathed.

As the monster rose out from behind the overturned SUV, another gasp was caught inside Annabeth’s throat. It lifted an outstretched limb, revealing the motionless form of a person dangling from the clutches of the monster’s curled fingers. 

“A wendigo,” Percy spat. 

The four of them lunged out of the Impala and withdrew their weapons. Swiftly, Annabeth pulled out the pistol from underneath her sweater and aimed it at the wendigo. Beside her, Grover promptly withdrew his reed pipes and brought it up to his lips. Standing in front of Annabeth, Percy’s sword sprung to life from the uncapped pen in his hand. Luther, on the other hand, held no weapon, and stood with his arms crossed and a toothy grin spread wide across his face. 

Wind whipped at Annabeth’s face and she cursed at the strands that were tugged out of her ponytail, swinging wildly in her vision. 

“How do you kill a wendigo?” she shouted above the increasing wind.

“Fire or silver!” Percy replied. “But fire doesn’t always work, you have to pierce the heart with silver!” 

“_ A-animal control?” _ one of the police officers shrieked into their walkie-talkie. “ _ The b-bear!” _

_ “A bear?” _ Luther belted a laugh. _ “You pigs crack me the fuck up!” _

Annabeth turned. “Grover.”

He nodded, and screwed his eyes shut before he blew a wild, frantic tune into his reeds. 

How Grover managed to summon overgrown grapevines from the asphalt of a highway bridge, Annabeth didn’t know, but it was enough to distract the wendigo and drop its captive to the ground. With strong, dense vines winding quickly around the long legs of the monster, it thrashed about in its leafy trap. The wendigo’s arms flailed around its body, fighting to keep balance, until it bent forward and started ripping out the tendrils by the root. 

Annabeth drew in a quick breath, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The pistol fired, and the bullet caught the upper part of its skull and teetered the wendigo’s form backwards from the impact.

She cursed inwardly again. Looking at the wendigo was like staring at the sun. It was difficult to properly focus on its visage that flickered back and forth to the image of a huge grizzly bear.

Passively, Annabeth thought about how lucky the mortals were for the Mist, sparing them from the wendigo’s ugly form.

Then, as if it heard her inward thought, the wendigo raised its bleeding head and turned in their direction. 

Though it had no eyes, Annabeth knew it was staring at her.

“Luther,” Percy said steadily.

“Say no more.” 

Percy and Luther lunged forward in practiced synchrony. While the two of them advanced towards the wendigo, Annabeth noticed Luther’s form grow larger and larger compared to Percy’s. First his back and torso grew thicker, as if a layer of fat had suddenly spread across his body and engulfed the toned muscles underneath. Then Luther’s shoulders grew wider, followed by his arms and legs that expanded to the size of tree trunks, and soon he was about three feet taller than Percy. Luther’s clothes started to tear as his body transformed into this giant of a man, and his shoes promptly burst to shreds as they gained speed towards the wendigo.

Annabeth was at a loss for words. 

“Is he the fucking _ Hulk?” _ Grover gasped incredulously, momentarily pausing his flute music as the two of them gaped at Luther and Percy. 

“I—” Annabeth choked out. It never occurred to her that Luther was partly mythological creature, like Tyson. “I—I _ think so? _But he’s not green!”

With a gasp, she noticed the grapevines dangling in the wendigo’s fist as he ripped out the final tendril. “Keep playing!” she told Grover. “I’m going to get closer!”

Then the wendigo caught sight of Percy and Luther. It threw its head back and let out a high, ear-splitting shriek that made Annabeth pause in her running steps and palm her ears, trying to force out the noise. 

Percy and Luther, however, were unfazed, and even seemed to be _ enjoying themselves _ as unhinged smiles spread across their faces.

Before the wendigo could swing a long arm and tear into the both of them, Percy leapt and swiped his sword, catching the creature’s left elbow. Then he lunged forward and brought the blade down, severing the monster’s forearm from the rest of its body with a wet, sickening _ crunch! _

Annabeth drew in another breath and continued forward until she caught up with the two policemen, still huddled behind their cruiser and watching the scene unfold before them with baffled eyes. Her eyes darted to the limp form of the captive body the wendigo previously held, now crumpled on the ground a few feet away as Percy and Luther drove the monster further backwards.

“Get that person to a hospital while the bear is distracted,” Annabeth commanded in the steadiest voice she could manage. She wasn’t as good at manipulating the Mist as Piper was with her charmspeak, but Annabeth was decent. “We’ll handle this.”

The two policemen stared blankly at Annabeth, seemingly confused by her sudden appearance, but then their eyes glazed over and they nodded. As the cops crawled out from behind their cruiser, Annabeth peered over the hood of the car and watched in bewilderment as Luther grappled with the wendigo like it was a sparring partner. 

Blood gushed out of the creature’s severed arm and wounded head, splattering Percy and Luther though they paid no mind. At the same time, more tendrils shot out from the ground (this time they were strawberries) and wound around the wendigo’s wrist, tugging the monster’s form downwards. This gave Percy another opening to sidestep quickly in front of Luther and cut off the remaining stub of the wendigo’s left arm.

Annabeth cursed in ancient Greek as the wendigo let out another piercing wail. Her eyes flew back to Luther, who was driving the wendigo away from civilian traffic like a lineman protecting the quarterback. Annabeth raised her gun and leveled it with the monster’s head. _ Why did it have to be so fucking_ _tall_? She couldn’t risk a shot to the wendigo’s heart with Luther so large and so close to the monster. Squeezing the trigger, the bullet caught its left eye and blew fragments of bone, blood, and flesh all around them.

In midst of the spatter, Annabeth watched the two policemen collect the broken form of the unconscious victim and sprint back to the cruiser. 

“Get as far away from here as possible,” she told the officers as they frantically loaded into the car._ If only there was an ambulance, _ Annabeth thought while they sped away, _ but there’s no time for that. _

“Annabeth!” she heard Percy shout. “_ Watch out _—”

Then she saw black.


	11. Dip in the Lake

With the amount of times Annabeth had passed out since she met Percy Jackson, she briefly wondered if she’d already surpassed Jason Grace’s personal record of_ hours-remaining-unconscious _back when Gaia was still a problem.

Thankfully Annabeth _ didn’t _ faint, and seeing the black underside of an SUV hurled straight at her injected enough adrenaline into her veins for her to dive away just in time. Then the SUV collided with the ground just a mere few feet away from her legs, glass and metal fragments bursting into the air around it. The vehicle creaked and groaned from the brutal impact, and it teetered on its side back and forth until it finally slumped over onto the tires.

She turned to Percy flashing a shocked-but-relieved face at her before redirecting his attention back to the fight. Grover had successfully encased both of the monster’s legs with a thick trunk of woven strawberry runners, keeping them rooted. At the same time, Luther still wrestled with the wendigo, trying to hold it in place, but the monster still put up a good fight. Percy was just trying to figure out how to maneuver him and his sword between two flailing giants.

Annabeth hissed out a breath. The fact that the wendigo had managed to throw a fucking _ car _ at her the split second her she looked away meant that she had to end this fast. She was the only one with a weapon of silver, and the sooner she put a bullet in the monster’s heart, the better. 

But she couldn’t just unload a barrage of bullets into its chest without risking Percy and Luther. Grover won’t be able to use his woodland magic much longer, and the wendigo will just go straight back to ripping out the plants the moment Luther lets go. 

Most importantly, the wendigo was still far too tall for her to make a clear shot. Annabeth didn’t want to risk pissing it off even further after taking away its brunch. (And its arm.)

“Percy!” she called out. “The legs!”

He nodded. Then the wendigo caught sight of Percy, and it swung its remaining arm, carrying Luther with it.

Luther let out a massive “_ Oof!” _as the wendigo’s forearm collided with his chest. “Watch out, kid!” he yelled as his form was carried into the air from the momentum. 

But Percy was faster. Right before the wendigo’s arm could connect with his body, Percy ducked and thrust his sword into the back of the monster’s knee. The wendigo let out another ear-splitting wail into the atmosphere as Percy drove the blade all the way through its flesh, twisting it as it went in and shattering the bones of the kneecap and joint. Then Percy yanked his sword to the side and delimbed calf from the rest of the wendigo’s leg.

Blood spurted out of the remaining stump and the wendigo swerved to its side. As its huge body stumbled to the ground, the arm veered and Luther was thrown into the bridge railing. Percy sprinted away just in time before being crushed by the wendigo’s weight, and he reappeared at Annabeth’s side. 

“Percy, help me get on this.”

Percy grabbed Annabeth by the waist and lifted her onto the hood of the SUV. Then she scrambled up until she was on the roof of the car. She stood up slowly, careful not to lose her balance as the ground vibrated from the weight of the wendigo’s collapse.

The wendigo was still far from dead, however, and it had fallen into a kneeling position, tilted on its right side from the remaining trunk of its thigh. 

The wind around them had increased to dramatic gusts that pulled the rest of Annabeth’s hair out of its tie and whipped it around her head. The SUV rocked beneath her as Percy got atop the car and took place on the roof beside her, raising his sword though the monster showed no signs of advancing. 

At this height, Annabeth had a good view of the wreckage from the fight. The road below them was colored a dark red, almost black, like someone had taken a power hose and sprayed the ground all over. The acrid smell of blood mixed with leaking gasoline rose up and stung her nostrils, making Annabeth’s eyes water. On both sides of the road, cars were parked and, unfortunately, the five of them (wendigo included) had amassed a small, fear-stricken audience—spectators that had gotten out of their vehicles to witness what kind of mess was happening over here. Luther was slumped over against the railing, body swaying from dizziness, but thankfully he was still alive. Grover was meters away, splayed on the ground from exhaustion and chest heaving like he’d just ran three miles straight. Distantly, Annabeth could hear police sirens coming from far away, and somewhere, off in the crowd, a child was crying about the poor bear. 

Annabeth stole a quick glance at Percy. His hair was a mess, but it suited him, and his eyes were flashing like Greek fire. His skin and clothes were drenched in wendigo blood, but otherwise he looked more alive than ever. Unscathed, even. 

He caught her gaze and returned a smirk. 

Then Annabeth finally dragged her eyes to the sight she’d been trying to avoid. Finally level with the wendigo, seeing it like this scared her far more than when it was standing. Its mouth was still wide open, jaw hanging slack while a foul stench that was vaguely reminiscent of Tartarus crept out. 

Now she had a clear-cut view of the grotesque innards exposed underneath the wendigo’s bare ribcage. One mass in particular, in the unmistakable shape of an oversized anatomical human heart, pulsated in the wendigo’s chest and writhed against the surrounding viscera. Annabeth could see its dripping, slimy organs squirm against each other with every beat.

Why did Annabeth suddenly feel so sad?

She dared her eyes to lift a little further back at the wendigo’s face. With half of its skull effectively blown off, the wendigo’s remaining dark, cavernous eye was still trained on her like it was trying to reach inside her. 

“Annabeth,” Percy said.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I know.”

Then she pulled the trigger. 

The wendigo’s body let out a loud, heaving groan as its torso slumped forward from the gaping hole that was now inside its chest. The way it teetered over reminded Annabeth of how a tree looked when it was uprooted and one would yell “Timber!” to avoid getting crushed. It collided with the ground with such a forceful impact that the bridge rocked, and someone’s car alarm went off from the disturbance. 

Then, once the bridge had steadied, it was quiet.

Everyone—passersby included—let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Thank the gods,” Annabeth exhaled, and she lowered her gun.

Underneath Percy’s breath, she heard him whisper: _ “Oh shit.” _

The wendigo’s body burst into dust with a grenade-like explosion, blowing away all the objects within the diameter of the blast. This included Luther, who was in the middle of getting up before being thrown back into the air, a flurry of angry curses following him; the nearby Honda Civic and truck; the SUV; and Percy and Annabeth along with it. 

Annabeth watched in horror as the ground grew further and further away from their feet, their bodies now well above the bridge railing. Percy’s sword flew past her face and her heart skyrocketed into her throat when they reached the peak of their trajectory. The wind lashed painfully against her bare skin when they began their descent downwards and Annabeth screwed her eyes shut and braced herself for the impact below—

But there was no collision. Annabeth’s arm was nearly torn out of her socket when Percy grabbed onto her wrist with an iron grip, clinging onto the railing above with his other hand at the same time. Percy’s sword plummeted beneath them until it hit the surface with a loud _ plunk! _, and it was then that Annabeth realized how dire their situation probably looked to the mortals: the two of them dangling on the side of a highway with only a lake below to cushion their fall.

She dared a look downwards, and was… pleasantly relieved to see that the fall wasn’t _ terrible _.

She’d survived worse, after all. 

Up above, she heard the _ clip-clop _of Grover’s hooves as he rushed over and peered past the railing. Annabeth saw a visible shiver run up his spine when he noticed just how far the drop was. 

“Percy! Annabeth! Are you guys okay?”

“Just hanging around,” Percy nonchalantly replied.

“Grover!” Annabeth called upwards. “Just meet us down at the shore!” 

The satyr let out an exasperated sigh. “And let _ Luther and I _deal with the mortal cops?”

“Uh, yeah,” Annabeth replied. “I was literally a nation-wide fugitive a few years ago.”

Percy looked down at her. “That was _ you?” _

She shot back a sly grin. Those were the good ol’ days. 

“So we droppin’?” 

“Can you swim?” 

Percy rolled his eyes and looked back at Grover. 

Grover sighed. “See you guys in a bit.”

Then Percy let go of the railing. 

He held onto Annabeth’s wrist the whole time until they made it back to land, which may have made her blush a bit if it weren’t for the freezing cold lake that threatened to give her hypothermia. Luckily, Percy knew how to swim. In fact, he was a _ great _ swimmer, and did most of the work getting them to the shoreline.

On their way back to land, Annabeth’s spotted a glint of light in her peripheral vision; the blade of Percy’s sword catching a sunray streaming through the water. Thankfully, it hadn’t sunk too far down, and Annabeth was able to grab the handle of the sword, holding onto it while Percy pulled them both to shore. 

They coughed and sputtered when they dragged themselves up the bank. Once they were at a decent height where the water below wouldn’t lap at their ankles, Annabeth rolled over and splayed her arms out completely, gasping for breath. Percy did the same.

For a good ten minutes or so, they stayed there, quiet and still. There was a unique peacefulness in laying down on warm sand after surviving a monster attack, Annabeth concluded. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that she was back at the Canoe Lake at Camp Half-Blood. 

“Gods, you should’ve been a swimmer,” Annabeth managed once she caught her breath.

Then Percy laughed an airy laugh. “A pipe dream.”

Annabeth dragged herself up so she could lean on her elbows. “Why?”

“Can’t stay in the water for too long.”

Annabeth pondered that sentence for a bit, but eventually shrugged. Then she turned to her right, eyeing Percy’s sword that laid in the sand beside her. Annabeth lifted it up and turned it around in her fingers, inspecting it. “Where did you even get this?” she mumbled. 

Percy had his face to the sky, eyes closed like he was a cat basking in the sunlight. “Artemis.”

A jolt ran through Annabeth’s spine. _ Artemis? _ she thought. _ Could it be… _

Her mind went back to her dream about Percy, but only briefly. 

_ Percy can smell when you’re guilty _ , Annabeth reminded herself. Then her nose wrinkled. _ Ew. _

She traced the hilt of the sword.

_ Although I’m not exactly _ guilty _ about anything this time… _

She turned the blade around around, and held it above her to see how the steel would catch the light. Aside from being able to turn into a pen (literally Riptide), it didn’t look anything more than a normal, run-of-the-mill medieval prop. Even the hilt didn’t have a design; just bound by black leather. 

_ Why did Artemis give him this? _

Annabeth lowered the blade to her hand, touching the tip of it to her palm. She steadily applied pressure, and felt the edge about to break skin until—

“What are you doing?” Percy asked.

“Huh?” Annabeth looked up, confused, until realization crossed her face. “Oh, I’m just checking to see if it can hurt humans. This sword,” she mused while turning it around once more in her hands, “is a lot like Riptide, a Greek weapon my—”

She paused. _ Old friend? Past love? Host for Kronos? _

Sadness pricked at her heart.

“—partner,” Annabeth continued, “used to use. Except Riptide was made of celestial bronze, and you can’t hurt humans with that metal.” 

Percy frowned. “Oh, it can hurt you _ plenty _,” he emphasized. “Don’t stab yourself with it. There’s wendigo blood on it.”

“Percy, you were just _ covered _in wendigo blood. I’ll—”

Annabeth paused again, noticing a strange shift in the water from the corner of her eyes. She turned her head and saw ripples on the lake’s surface, like something had stirred underneath.

“I’ll be right back.”

She set down Percy’s sword and followed the rippling water. The closer she got to the lake edge, the more she could see the shadow of something moving in the depths, not too far away from the surface. 

Then the shadow’s movements increased in speed like it was suddenly aware of Annabeth’s presence. The dark apparition swam faster and faster and eventually Annabeth had to break into a jog to keep up with it. She was vaguely aware of how far away she was getting from Percy when the ground beneath her shoes shifted from sand to undergrowth.

“You are _ so _ not getting away from me,” Annabeth mumbled, and she urged on. Then she broke into a short sprint, running ahead of the shadow in the water and timing her pace at _ just _the right moment so when she sprang forward and reached into the depths with an outstretched palm—

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” a young voice cried. 

—Annabeth didn’t come up empty-handed. “Why are you spying on us?” she demanded.

The naiad sniffled, and she looked around Annabeth’s age. She had skin so pale that it was almost tinted a light blue, and long, caramel-colored hair woven into a fish-braid. 

The water nymph raised her other arm to wipe at her watering (ha-ha) eyes. “It’s just,” she started. Then she turned her head from left to right, eyes darting like she was afraid of someone overhearing them. The naiad lowered her voice. “_ The prodigal son.” _

“Huh?” Annabeth said, probably a little too loudly, because the naiad seemed to jump inside her skin.

“I’ve already said too much!” the water nymph wailed. Then she dipped down under the surface for a brief second, left arm still raised with Annabeth’s iron grip around her wrist. In water, the naiad twisted around to check her surroundings, and then resurfaced. “I shouldn’t be here! I’m sorry!”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Annabeth stumbled over her words. The naiad was so frantic that it was making Annabeth nervous. Then her voice softened. “Did you mean Percy?”

“I can’t tell you!” the naiad whined, trying to tug her arm away. “_ He _ might hear me!”

“_ Who? _”

“I—_ can’t tell you!” _

Then the naiad finally wrestled herself out of Annabeth’s grip. The water nymph slipped back into the water soundlessly before darting off to gods-know-where, leaving Annabeth kneeling on the bank, watching her swim away.

Annabeth sat there in silence, not really sure what to do with the newfound information she had at hand. She let out a sigh, and the hard features on her face softened as she gazed at the sparkling surface of the lake in front of her. This was one of the _ many _ times where she wished she could look up at the sky and scream “ _ Why?” _ at the gods for making her life even more difficult than need be. Not even a naiad, who were _ terrible _chattermouths and flirts, were allowed to speak to her for some cryptic reason.

A few minutes later, she heard footsteps crunching the grass nearby. 

“Who were you talking to?” Percy asked.

She turned to Percy. This was the first time Annabeth really had a good look at him since they left that morning to hit the road. One would think that a battle with wendigo would really rough someone up around the edges, but ruggedness on Percy looked _ good _. He was wearing dark jeans with a fashionable tear on his right knee that Annabeth couldn’t remember if he’d gotten it from the fight, or if it was always there. Above that, he had on a black tee—or maybe it was a gray shirt, Annabeth wasn’t sure, since Percy was drenched in both wendigo blood and water. Draped over his arm was a dark blue flannel and black corduroy jacket he’d layered on earlier that morning, but took off once they crawled out of the lake. 

Then Annabeth mentally slapped herself. She stared at Percy _ way _ too much for her own good, and felt very ordinary in her black jeans and denim jacket that she’d had for forever since Piper took her out shopping as a birthday present. Of course, she still had Percy’s green shawl around her neck, and Annabeth was starting to grow very fond of how she could match it with just about any outfit.

Percy held out his hand and helped Annabeth up. She wiped at the dirt that had gotten on her jeans from kneeling, and was suddenly aware of how much water she was dripping all around from her soaking hair and clothing. 

Annabeth peeled off her jacket to reveal a plain white v-neck underneath, and a small blush crept up to Percy’s cheeks. 

She looked up. “What?”

Percy looked like he was trying _ really hard _ to avoid her direction. “I can… ah—seethroughyourshirt.” He said the last four words in a single breath.

Annabeth looked down to her black bra that was very, very visible underneath her drenched tee. 

“Here.” Percy practically shoved his corduroy jacket in her arms. “I wrung it out before heading over here.”

Annabeth obliged, but not without feeling herself blush, and maybe even sweat a little from this awkward interaction. Silently, she draped the large jacket over her shoulders and pulled it over her chest. Then Percy gathered enough courage to look at her again, though his face was still a light shade of pink.

He cleared his throat. “So, uh, what were you chasing after?”

Annabeth shook her head, almost forgetting their earlier conversation. “A naiad,” she answered honestly.

“A what?” 

“A water nymph.”

“Oh.” Percy’s lips formed an ‘o’ shape. “Christ, Chase, don’t just take off like that.”

“I was gone for, like, fifteen minutes.”

Percy shrugged.

Annabeth sighed. “I wanted to see if I could contact my friends through her.”

Now _ that _ was true; Annabeth was partly hoping to see if she could get any intel on the demigod world from the naiad. Maybe a reason why iris-messaging wasn’t working for her, or if there was another God of Silence strapped up to a broadcasting pole nearby like last time. 

Instead, Annabeth was only left with more puzzling messages to decipher.

_ The prodigal son _ … That had to be about Percy, but fucking _ why? _

“Were you able to?” he asked. 

Annabeth shook her head. “No.”

Percy frowned. “Sorry.”

She held her hand up. “It’s alright. Didn’t expect to, anyways.”

“Alright. Just don’t take off like that again.”

Then a wide grin spread across Annabeth’s face—she couldn’t help it—and she placed her hands on her hips. “Missing me already?” she said in a smug voice, repeating words Percy had told her back in Dusk Cafe. 

Percy smiled. “Maybe I am, Wise Girl. Let’s head back.”

They both began the walk back, and Annabeth took this as another chance to analyze her surroundings. The lake they’d plunged into was surrounded by a small forest; not dense enough to get lost in, but enough nature to momentarily forget that they were still in the city somewhere in southern California. Far off in the center of the lake, Annabeth could see a flock of geese wading on the surface and pecking at bugs or fish below. On the shoreline opposite to where they were walking was a holding for canoes, and distantly Annabeth could see a small family piling into a kayak. 

_ The Mist probably disguised our fall… _she thought, mildly surprised that there wasn’t any uproar over two civilians falling over the side of a bridge. Inwardly, though, Annabeth was thankful. She wanted to stay out of the public eye as much as possible. 

“Something’s not sitting right with me,” Percy said, snapping Annabeth back to reality. “Wendigos usually don’t hunt out in the open like that. Especially during the day.”

Annabeth wracked her brain to see if she knew anything about wendigos. She could only recall them from a few _ Supernatural _episodes she’d seen. “Humans turn into wendigos when they resort to cannibalism…” she murmured, thinking aloud. Then Annabeth halted in her footsteps. “You don’t think… a ghoul could’ve…” 

Percy turned and looked back at her with sad, sad eyes, and Annabeth felt the need to reach out and hold him. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” he said. “If someone couldn’t survive the transition into a ghoul, the cannibalism could very well turn them into a wendigo—”

“You guys!” called a voice.

Annabeth couldn’t describe how relieved she was to see Grover and Luther next to Percy’s parked Impala, waving to them at a nearby clearing beside the lake. She and Percy bolted towards them. 

Luther popped open the trunk of the car and reemerged with a new white shirt on that wasn’t covered in blood. Once he closed it, however, his face was grim, and opened his mouth to deliver bad news but Percy beat him to it—

“What the hell happened to my car?” His hands flew to the sides of his head as he paced around it. Unlike the rest of them, the Impala didn’t emerge unscathed from the blast, and was covered in scratches, dents, and a nasty crack that spanned the entirety of the windshield. 

“The wendigo happened, kid,” Luther answered, and patted Percy’s back.

Percy was speechless. 

“Hey,” Grover said. “Turns out Luther _ isn’t _ the hulk. He’s part ogre!” 

Annabeth turned to Luther, who now had a wide, goofy grin on his face. “Yep. Fifty percent ogre, thanks to my papa.” 

“Oh,” Annabeth said. “So like Shrek.”

Luther’s face turned grim again and Grover snorted. “Don’t call me Shrek.”

“I said that too!” Grover bleated a laugh. 

“But you _ are _ like Shrek,” Annabeth continued. 

“Lady, I am not green—”

“Halloween comes around, you’d make a good—”

_ “Guys,” _Percy said, exasperated. “Let’s just get back on the road, please?”


	12. A Reminder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Sorry for the super long delay! These past few months have been a whirlwind, but quarantine has given me lots of time to continue this fic, lol. Hope you enjoy!

“Y’know,” Grover began while letting his backpack slide off of his shoulder and slump onto the bench in front of them. “This is starting to feel vaguely reminiscent of our first quest together.”

Annabeth squinted at the digital bulletin board posted above the Amtrak ticket counter, seeing the estimated arrival times of upcoming trains. “1:21 PM…” she said aloud, reading the current time. 716 was the one she and the others were due for, and they had to wait another hour before it got to the station. 

“Yeah,” she then replied to Grover, shifting her attention back to the satyr. “Except you didn’t force me to say hi to a pink poodle this time.”

Percy sank dejectedly in the seat beside Grover’s backpack, and slung his own to the ground beside his ankles. “I still don’t think we needed to leave my car behind,” he grumbled. 

“No offense kid,” Luther approached them while munching on a Snickers bar, “but she was _ busted _. Had to carry her all the way down to the lake to meet y’all.”

“I still can’t believe you did that,” Grover said flatly. 

“You heard those police sirens.” Luther took a seat next to Percy. “If the feds saw the inside of Percy’s trunk—” he finished his remark with a short whistle. 

Percy leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

“Let’s just be grateful we got that guy to tow Percy’s car back to Gabe’s,” Annabeth mused, biting her lip in thought. After the four of them regrouped at the bottom of the bridge, they quickly realized that Percy’s car was in no condition for long travels, and none of their cellphones seemed to work for Olympus-knows-why. Then Annabeth flagged down a guy driving a tow truck and, with a little manipulation of the Mist and some spare cash, got him to take Percy’s car back to Gabe’s with no questions asked. 

Then Annabeth recalled the time back during her first quest, when she was only twelve years old, and she, Grover, and Luke blew up the bus that was supposed to take them to Los Angeles. It seemed a little _ too _ coincidental that the same thing happened to Percy’s car, but then again, when did the gods ever let her have a straight path to their destination?

She didn’t realize how much she was frowning until Grover nudged her. “Wanna sit?” he said with a look of concern. “We have time to kill—well, killing _ time _ among other things.”

Annabeth blinked, suddenly aware of how tightly she was gripping onto the strap of her backpack. She took in a deep breath and forced a weak smile. “I’ll go use the restroom first.”

Grover nodded and she walked away from the group. As Annabeth approached the women’s restroom on the other side of the waiting area, she quickly scanned their surroundings and took note of the others in the room with them. There was the Amtrak clerk, who sat passively behind her glass barrier while turning a page in her magazine. Sitting in the corner was an elderly couple, comfortably perched beside one another on their bench while the gentleman flipped through a newspaper and his wife journaled in a small notebook. Across the room from where Percy, Grover, and Luther sat was a young man, about a few years older than them, Annabeth presumed, fidgeting with the lid of a cigarette box while reading an Amtrak pamphlet. Standing beside the exit was a young woman, both earbuds in, with one hand on her luggage and another scrolling through her phone. 

Alongside a quick visual inspection, Annabeth assessed the energy in the room. She didn’t detect any supernatural entities, or any of her demigod _ spidey senses _ acting up, so her shoulders relaxed when she rounded the corner into a short corridor and pushed open the door of the women’s restroom. 

None of the stalls were occupied, thankfully, and she took this rare moment of solitude as a chance to inspect her appearance in the mirror. When Annabeth turned to see her reflection, she winced. Her long blonde hair, normally tied neatly into a high ponytail, was a drooping mess that cascaded clumsily down her shoulders in dirty curls. Traces of soil were smudged on her cheek and above her eyebrows from when she and Percy plunged into the lake and dragged themselves up the bank. It was also the worst day to wear a white tee, Annabeth mentally noted, as her fingers traced the damp spots on her clothing left by mud and exploding wendigo remains. 

Tentatively, Annabeth raised her hands and felt around the back of her head, searching for a bandage Will had placed for a particularly nasty wound that came from her brawl in the alleyway that first night. That memory felt so far away from her now, she mused, and she gently tugged the adhesive gauze off her skull without bringing any stray curls with it. The patch itself was crusted from dried blood and shed scar tissue, but the wound seemed to be fully healed when Annabeth touched the previously injured spot and felt a slight soreness on the new layer of skin. For once, she was thankful for her thick curls to hide this new bald spot. 

But still, advanced demigod healing abilities only went so far when it came to repairing other parts of herself. Annabeth drew her attention back to her face, scanning over her exhausted, sunken features. Her normally stormy eyes were dulled into a pale grey, and the dark circles underneath them made her look physically ill. Her previously busted lip had also reopened from their most recent encounter, and a thin stream of blood dribbled off the corner of her mouth.

Annabeth scowled. _ Ugly, ugly, ugly… _ she thought as she flipped on the faucet and vigorously scrubbed at the dirt on her hands. _ At least the outside matches now. _

With one last disgruntled look at her battered being, she splashed water on her face and tried to freshen herself up as much as she could inside a train station restroom. Then Annabeth went inside an empty stall and changed into a new pair of leggings and a gray v-neck. She finished off by securing her locks into another high ponytail, and readjusting Percy’s green scarf around her neck. Feeling satisfied, she slung her backpack over her shoulders and opened her stall door, only to freeze when she caught a glimpse at the new reflection in the mirror. 

“Annabeth.”

He stood there, inside the mirror, posed with his helmet tucked underneath in his arm, dressed in armor that had already seen war. 

“L-Luke?” she tried to choke out. 

Luke looked just as he did when Kronos made him a host. Moments before Annabeth had taken his life.

“Do they know what you are?” he said in a voice that was a weak, raspy shell of what it used to be—or maybe that’s how he always sounded, and Annabeth was just deaf to the malice in his words from a naive love that was once unconditional. “What you did?”

“I—” she grasped at the ghosts of words. “They—they…”

“Only a matter of time,” Luke warned with a wide, haunting smirk cutting across his face like an open wound. “It’s in your blood, Annabeth.”

Luke seemed to take a step forward, bringing his body closer to her side of the mirror. Hearing the familiar noise of his metal helmet clanging against the side of his plated armor triggered a fight or flight response in Annabeth’s neurons. 

“You’ll thank me for this,” he said, his smile deepening. “The same way you did, all those years ago.” 

She bolted out of the room and collided straight into another body.

“Hey—_ hey!” _Percy said, grabbing her wrists with an iron grip to keep her from sprinting away. 

Annabeth felt dizzy, struggling to center her focus on Percy’s piercing sea-green eyes. Her chest was heaving and her muscles wanted to seize but the small, twelve year old Annabeth in her mind was screaming at her body to run away. Then she noticed Percy’s fingers around her wrists, and she yanked her arms away and drew them close to her sides. She felt disgusted with her own skin, and suddenly wanted to never feel touched again—memories of the beta vampire violating her body shot through her mind, alongside the trauma of Luke’s apparition forcing open old wounds. 

Percy quickly noticed her apprehension and took a step back to clear some space. “What happened in there? Are you okay? Did—” Then he closed his mouth, concern washing over his face like a tide. He waited a moment, and spoke again in a softer voice. “Do… do you want someone to stay here with you? I can call Grover over, or Luther, or…” 

Annabeth shook her head too wildly to convince Percy that she was even relatively _ close _ to being okay. “I…” she began. Her voice was small, like the vision of Luke had stolen most of it straight out of her chest. “I don’t know what I want. I just…” 

She had to pause to hold back a sob from crawling its way up her throat. Being alone was the last thing Annabeth wanted right now, but she couldn’t bear to show herself to any of her companions right now. Not with how she was feeling. Not with the weight of knowing what she was. 

“Hey…” Percy began again, reaching his hand out, pausing, and pulling it back to his side. 

“I fucked up.” The words tumbled out of her. “I fucked up. I fucked up.”

Percy looked bewildered. “What? No, you haven’t.”

Annabeth shook her head once again, shifting her gaze to the tiled pattern of the floor below them. She clenched and unclenched her fists. “A long time ago,” she gritted out. “I made a really, _ really _ bad mistake—” 

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Percy held his hand up. Annabeth glanced at him and saw his jaw was set, though he had a tender look in his eyes. “Don’t force yourself to tell me,” he said, returning with his softer voice. “Just… let’s just go outside, okay? Let’s get some fresh air.” 

Annabeth waited, mulling over the thought of it a few times over in her head before resigning with a weak nod. She readjusted her backpack over her shoulders, and Percy stepped aside to gesture at one of the train station exits across from them.

She turned to see if Grover and Luther were looking their way, but they were too preoccupied with what seemed like a game of cards. It would only be a matter of time—or seconds, really, until her empathy link betrayed her true feelings to Grover.

Grover was one of the few people who knew. Who _ truly _knew. And still forgave her.

Annabeth swallowed down another short sob. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, and no one else seemed to take notice of her small panic attack. Then she nodded to Percy again, who still had his eyes on her, and they both headed out.

* * *

She brought her knees up to her chest as she sat on the bench, backpack resting in the spot beside her. Annabeth chose a shady spot on the side of the small Amtrak station, away from the others inside, away from her vision of Luke. Her hands still trembled, and she tightened her grip around her knees to try and steady herself. 

_ Breathe in, breathe out _, she told herself, but one of her inhales came off sounding like a sniffle. 

Percy sat on the other side of her, making sure to leave a few inches of room between the both of them. 

Annabeth was glad he was there. 

“I, uh…” he started, scratching the side of his head and then crossing her arms. “I mean, what I _ mean _ to say is that… I don’t blame you. I feel the same way sometimes. I remember the things I did, what I used to do, and I lose it.”

Annabeth kept her focus on the view ahead of them. There was concrete, then train tracks, then a wire fence separating the station from a row of a neighborhood’s backyards. It felt like the weight on her shoulders was more evenly dispersed now, though the tips of her fingers still tingled from the leftover sensations of panic leaving her body. 

_ That’s right… _ she thought to herself. _ Percy was a hunter. _

Probably for as long as she’d known she was a demigod.

“How did you get involved?” Annabeth forced herself to speak. “_ Gabe’s _ business. Your parents seem split, so...”

Percy was silent for a while. Long enough for anxiety to start welling in Annabeth’s throat for asking something that might have been a little_ too _ personal for two strangers to share.

Mentally, she laughed at herself. _ Strangers, huh? _Didn’t feel like it, and Annabeth was well accustomed to quickly growing comfortable with companions she took along with her in quests. Even if she didn’t get a say with who she wanted to bring in this one. Initially, she probably would’ve brought Jason or Leo, maybe even Nico, with her. 

But now, with what she’d seen so far, she wasn’t so sure. All Annabeth knew was that she found herself suddenly grateful for having met Percy and Luther. 

Her hand unconsciously drifted to the strap hidden underneath the fabric of her leggings, holding her knife. Feeling the hilt was a habit she’s had since she was a child, back when she was still fighting off monsters with Luke and Thalia. It was an extension of herself, and the familiarity of her knife always helped centered her. 

“Actually, it was my mom,” Percy finally answered. 

This time Annabeth willed herself to look at him. “Wait, really?”

He nodded, keeping his gaze straight in front of him while a look of reminiscence filled his features. Remembering. “My mom was a hunter, but not by choice.”

Annabeth blinked, and shifted in her seat so she sat cross-legged on the bench. Her silence prompted Percy to continue. 

“Told me she was always being chased by monsters while growing up. She was one of the few mortals who could see them. Then the monsters started attacking me when I was twelve, and she taught me how to survive. We moved around a lot until finally settling down in SoCal.” 

Annabeth rolled Percy’s words around in her head. If Percy told her this a few years prior, she would have assumed that Sally and him were both demigods, and those monsters were just some _ Hey, your existence makes my life harder. Die! _ gifts from Hades. 

But she’d gone through too much in her teenage years to know that the world revolved around more than just Greek lore. There were Roman gods, Norse gods, Egyptian gods, and so on. Maybe the monsters attacking Sally and Percy were from their own culture, though Percy didn’t strike her as the type to care about the difference between a wendigo and the minotaur. 

_ He keeps a hellhound for a pet, _ she reminded herself. _ Sheesh. _

“Why SoCal?” Annabeth continued to ask.

The side of Percy’s mouth quirked up. “_ The smell _, she told me. Said the pollution in Southern California reminded her of New York. It hid us from the monsters, and the attacks stopped after that. It was also where Gabe was, the guy who ditched us the moment I was born, and he was part of the hunting business too. I worked for him for a few years to help my mom pay the bills, but then…”

“...you were good at it,” Annabeth answered, though she wasn’t sure if that was what Percy was going to say. “The way Gabe talked to you, it seemed like you were the best one.”

Percy let out an unamused noise. “Yeah, I guess.” He tilted his head to the side, facing away from her. “I stopped once my mom and I were finally on our feet. I finished college, _ she _ left _ him _this time, opened up a coffee shop, and we finally had enough for her to go back to school.” 

Annabeth let that information settle in. There was a relief in this, hearing the normal things Percy had done in his past. Go to school. Open up a coffee shop. Try to escape his old life. Annabeth did the same thing. 

Running away from monsters, Annabeth did that too. But Percy chose to go back and fight, for him and his mom. 

If only she could say the same thing about herself. But Annabeth was a coward. 

“What about Tyson?” she built up the courage to ask.

Percy shook his head, and redirected his focus to the train tracks. “I don’t wanna imagine the things Gabe did with a _ werewolf _, but Tyson joined the family business when he was fourteen. I was sixteen and took him under my wing. Taught him everything I knew. Then a few years later I left, and Tyson was devastated.”

Annabeth nodded.

“I tried to get him to leave too, but Tyson didn’t want to,” Percy continued. “He didn’t know his mom, and he felt like he needed to prove something to Gabe. I still visited him a lot after we left. He still saw me as his big brother. Then he became Gabe’s best hunter.”

Percy took in a deep breath. “I wanted to leave all that behind. I wanted Tyson to come with me. But now we’re here.”

Annabeth felt prompted to press a comforting hand on his forearm. Percy didn’t seem to mind. “Hey, we’ll find him. I promise.”

Then Percy finally looked at her, and a familiar smug grin graced his features though sincerity pooled in his eyes. “Sorry about that. I was supposed to be helping you.”

Annabeth smiled. Truth be told, she was glad that they didn’t talk about herself. Percy answered a few of the questions she had, and hearing him talk helped distract her from her own nerves. “It’s fine. I think I needed this.”

Percy nodded. “Me too.”

“Let’s, uh…” she took in a deep breath, and pulled her arm back to her side. Percy’s eyes followed the path her hand took. “Let’s go back inside.”

“Yeah,” Percy agreed. They gathered their backpacks. “Grover’s probably destroying Luther right now. He has a terrible poker face.”

Annabeth cracked a smile, and they headed back inside the Amtrak station. 

When they approached Grover, the cards were put away and Luther was back at the vending machine. 

“Y’know,” Grover began once he saw them. He let his backpack slide off his shoulder and slump onto the bench in front of them. “This is starting to feel vaguely reminiscent of our first quest together.”

Annabeth stopped in her tracks. “What?”

Percy then sat in the seat beside Grover’s backpack. He dropped his own bag to the ground beside his ankles. “I still don’t think we needed to leave my car behind,” Percy muttered.

She turned to Percy. “You said that already.”

He looked puzzled. “No I didn’t.”

“No offense kid,” Luther came up behind them, a new Snickers bar in hand, “but she was _ busted _. Had to carry her all the way down to the lake to meet y’all.”

Annabeth’s eyes darted from Luther, to Percy, to Grover. “_ No…” _she gasped, and her eyes flew to the digital bulletin on the wall, above the ticket counter, to read the current time.

1:21 PM.


	13. The Executioner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned! So many things have been happening in the past few chapters, I feel a little bad for throwing so many curveballs haha. I promise things will calm down after this, and questions will f i n a l l y be answered soon enough.

Annabeth sucked in a sharp breath. _ Alright, time loop _ , she said to herself. _ No biggie. Kind of like the Lotus Hotel—but worse. _

She looked around her surroundings nervously, suddenly feeling like there were a million eyes on her back. The inside of the station looked no different to how it was when she scanned the room earlier. The clerk, elderly couple, scruffy gentleman, and young woman were still there in their respective positions, still minding their own businesses. Was one of them causing this, or was it another unseen force that had yet to reveal itself?

Annabeth betted on the latter, though she could never be sure. 

“Percy…” Annabeth said slowly. Dread pricked at her consciousness like the goosebumps on her arms. Her voice was steady but cautious, and the warning held in it seemed to perturb the rest of her companions. “Do you remember what we just talked about?”

Percy leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. Genuine confusion creased his eyebrows, and he blinked at her. “About what?”

Annabeth felt a short pang of sadness. He doesn’t remember.

Then she looked from Percy to Grover to Luther. All of them were visibly concerned for her. Should she tell them about the time loop, or try to figure it out herself? “I’m…” she began, voice initially unclear, wavering. Then she cleared her throat and gripped tighter onto her backpack strap. “I’m going to use the restroom.”

The others nodded to her, though she particularly noticed Grover and Percy’s eyes trailing on her. Grover had to have noticed her unease because of their empathy link, and Percy—well, Percy can just _ smell _ her emotions every now and then. 

Still, Annabeth forced herself to relax her shoulders as she crossed the room and headed towards the corridor leading to the women’s restroom. 

Thoughts swirled around her head like a cesspool. What had triggered the time loop? It could have been a spoken word, or a sentence. A simple action, maybe? Or perhaps even a time limit before everything would restart again. Was the time loop some sort of natural phenomenon, like the Mystery Spot, or a trap laid out by another enemy?

Annabeth shook her head. Yeah, _ definitely _a trap. She shouldn’t even bother asking at that point. 

The time loop was triggered when she and Percy reentered the station. That seemed to be the most likely catalyst—for now. 

_ I’ll retrace my steps, _Annabeth thought to herself with steady finality. She was the only one who noticed it, after all, and gut feeling told her that being a child of Athena meant this puzzle was specifically hers to solve.

_ What do I do, then, to break out of it? _ Annabeth pondered as she pushed open the restroom door. She was, as expected, the only one there. Annabeth looked at herself in the mirror and continued to remove the bandage from the back of her head, like she did before. _ Awareness was what got Grover, Luke, and I out of the Lotus Hotel, but… _

Annabeth winced as the adhesive on the bandage tugged on her scalp. Then another thought hit her like a jolt of lightning. Would she see Luke in the mirror again, or was that just an independent episode of her demigod PTSD resurfacing? 

She finally got the damn thing off, but a few stray curls came with the little gauze square. So much for being careful that first time. 

Annabeth hissed another sharp breath in. If she worked fast, she could find the perpetrator before the next time reset. But still, none of these monsters were up her alley of knowledge. Hand her a Giant or Titan and she would be fine. But vampires? Ghouls? Wendigos? Even Luther was an ogre for crying out loud. It didn’t help that her_ only _ knowledge of _ any _ of these monsters came from pop culture. Annabeth should really tell Chiron to hold a new class on these creatures the next time she was at camp.

She shook her head. Annabeth doubted Chiron knew about this mess any more than she did. 

_ Okay, _Annabeth told herself, and proceeded to wash her hands and face. Then she went inside one of the stalls and reemerged in Percy’s shawl, black leggings, and a grey v-neck. She kept Percy’s corduroy jacket on, in case she needed extra protection to hide her scent from whatever was causing all of this. 

She glanced at the mirror, and was relieved to see there was no ghostly apparition of Luke to fill up the frame. Then it hit her, halfway through stepping out of the restroom door, that Luke’s apparition, again, _ wasn’t there. _

_ When you’re stuck in a time loop, what do you do? _Annabeth asked herself as she slowly approached the bathroom mirror. The visage of her in a knotted ponytail, face devoid of sleep, and dressed in Percy’s jacket that made her look like a waddling penguin almost made her croak out a laugh. Almost. 

_ You look for the one thing that’s different. _

Annabeth scrutinized the image. She saw herself, which was unsurprising. She didn’t clean herself up as well as she did the first time around, but hey, it was a little hard to focus when you had a monster trying to play mind games with you. 

_ “It’s in your blood, Annabeth.” _ Luke had told her that. Was it a warning, or a hint? These days, it was hard to tell when a vision was _ really _a vision, or just resurfaced trauma. 

Whatever the reason was, it had Annabeth glaring at the mirror like her life depended on it (which was mostly true). Her eyes traced the wrinkles on her shirt to the layers of Percy’s shawl and then the form of the corduroy jacket. The expression she had on was set in an unintentional scowl, and her curly blonde locks were tied up in a ponytail, save for her bangs that framed her face.

Then another thought occurred to her. She remembered when Hazel was able to trick the sorceress Pasiphae by manipulating the Mist, and redirected the labyrinth to buy Annabeth time to come back up through the Doors of Death. 

What if this was just one big illusion?

_ In my blood… _ Annabeth thought again, and an absurd idea occurred to her that was crazy enough to try. 

Annabeth took out her knife from the pocket of her leggings (she silently thanked Piper for buying them for her) and rolled up her left sleeve to expose her forearm. _ If it’s virgin blood you fuckers want... _ she thought while dragging the tip of the blade into her skin. The noise, like cutting through wet leather, bothered Annabeth more than the sting, but she made sure to cut deep enough for the blood to ooze out her arm. She felt mesmerized by the red liquid, like staring into a void—a sickly, bleeding, void—and Annabeth felt herself calm down. Kronos was the only other being she was aware of that was capable of reversing time, and she knew for a _ fact _ there weren’t any other gods in the near vicinity. 

Most of them were afraid of Annabeth, after all. 

_ Then come and get it _. She lifted the blade off her arm. 

Annabeth finally saw it in the mirror. A strand of black hair dangled high above her head, nearly unnoticeable in the top edge of the mirror, but still, she saw it. It sauntered slowly downward, like it was connected to a body that was lowering itself down.

Annabeth didn’t dare to look, and instinctively drove her knife upwards into the skull of the ghoul that had dropped down in front of her. Wet, decayed bits of crusted blood and flesh splattered onto Annabeth’s face as she twisted the blade further up the monster’s jaw. 

She was inches away from its face. The ghoul looked like it used to be a young girl—maybe fourteen or fifteen, still dressed in the private school uniform it was killed in. Her form was so decayed Annabeth couldn’t discern any particular features that would’ve given a clue to how the girl might have looked if she was alive; the complexion of her skin was greyed and sunken like a tarp draped over her skeleton, while her eyeballs showed more yellowed-white than iris. The side of the ghoul’s neck, all the way down to her collarbone, were ripped into stringy shreds of skin and muscle, and Annabeth unsure of where the ghoul’s flesh ended and her clothing began. 

The ghoul’s mouth parted to let out a low, guttural groan, and Annabeth could see her blade penetrating the back of its throat. She felt the urge to feel sadness for the dead girl as she yanked out her knife from the bottom of its skull—

It lurched forward.

—but a moment of sympathy would’ve gotten her killed. The ghoul lunged towards her, jaws extended, closing the distance between Annabeth’s cheek and its teeth. Quickly, Annabeth used her left forearm to block the ghoul’s mouth, and it gladly clamped down on the skin around her still-bleeding cut. Obscene sucking sounds were made by the ghoul while it devoured Annabeth’s blood. Disgusted, Annabeth kicked her right foot against the monster’s chest to dislodge it. 

The ghoul tumbled backwards into the ground and clawed at the floor until it got back on its feet. It lurched forward in an attempt to latch itself once more, but Annabeth was quicker. She took out her pistol and squeezed the trigger, blowing off the ghoul’s head into wet, blackened bits that sprayed Annabeth and the bathroom walls and stalls. 

“_ Gods, _” she heard a voice say, and Annabeth realized it was her own. The dead ghoul was now laying in a crumpled heap onto the floor, and Annabeth counted the seconds until it exploded into a plume of dust and ash. 

Annabeth felt herself moving backwards, reaching behind her until she felt the cool tile of the bathroom wall, and she slumped against it. Her ears roared with a high pitch from the explosion of the gunshot, and she could practically taste her pulse inside her throat.

“So you’re the rat that got away.”

Standing in midst of the cloud of dispersing ash stood a woman. _ How did she get there? _

She had black, pin-straight hair that hung all the way down to her waist, and irises so vibrant red they seemed to glow even under the poor lighting. The stranger had olive skin, a firm jaw, and narrow eyes that made her look like the human version of a panther. There was a playful, unwelcoming smirk on her face, and she was dressed in simple denim jeans, a black tank top, and a brown leather jacket that seemed to downplay the predatory aura she possessed; possibly to disguise it, Annabeth supposed. Visibly, she reminded Annabeth of a combination of both Reyna and Thalia. 

Though it appeared the woman was a few inches shorter than Annabeth, just her _ presence _ felt like a looming, untouchable force that made the demigod want to crawl into a corner. 

Then her gaze trailed down to a particular design on the woman’s neck, under the left side of her jaw. The serpent insignia.

Annabeth forced herself to straighten her back and lift her head, though it was a little hard to seem menacing while sitting on the bathroom floor. She tightened her hold on the pistol in her left and her knife in her right.

_ The rat that got away… _ The stranger’s words finally sunk in, and panic readily replaced the anger in her veins. Was _ this _ the alpha that was searching for Annabeth? Was Percy’s scarf and jacket not enough to hide her own scent? Was this where she was finally going to die?

The woman knelt down in front of Annabeth, leveling their gazes. There was a sparkle of amusement in her bloodred eyes. “You killed one of my dogs.” She grabbed Annabeth’s chin and jerked her head side to side, evaluating her features.

Sudden anger spiked her pulse. This felt too reminiscent of when Annabeth was cornered in the alleyway by the beta and his two ghouls. But still, as Annabeth examined the features of this new presumed enemy, the _ strength _ that radiated in ghastly waves from this woman made the first beta vampire look like a cockroach. 

Annabeth’s legs were long enough to kick the bitch out of the way, a voice in the back of her head told her. She _ could _ do it. 

Another voice told her that decision would lead to a one-way ticket down to the Underworld. 

Annabeth opted not to.

“Dog?” Was all she could muster.

The woman let go of her chin. Even on her knees, she seemed to tower over Annabeth. “My ghoul. You lured her out with the smell of your... _ blood _ .” 

Hearing the last word rolling off the stranger’s tongue felt like velvet rubbing against her spine. Annabeth wasn’t sure if she was repulsed or mesmerized.

“What the fuck do you want?” Annabeth kept her voice in a low growl. Speaking louder would have revealed how scared shitless she was.

The woman blinked, and then a dark chuckle escaped her lips. “The time loop was just to fuck with you, but I didn’t know _ you _ would be immune to the illusion. You broke it. How?” 

A second went by. “I don’t know.” What else could Annabeth say?

The woman narrowed her eyes, and her nose wrinkled. “You’re drenched in his scent.” 

Annabeth swallowed. She asked whose, though she could already guess who the woman was referring to.

The playfulness in the woman’s expression was replaced by a grimace. Her eyes bore holes into Annabeth’s. It was surprising how such a fiery, passionate color like red could chill a person down to their bones.

“The Executioner.”

In her peripheral vision, Annabeth saw a small vine emerge from a crack in the tiles, just behind the woman. It crept slowly forward. _ Grover! _

Her heart drummed against her chest. She didn’t dare let her gaze stray away from the woman’s face. “You mean Percy?” Annabeth croaked out. Better talk to keep the enemy distracted. 

Another wicked smile uncurled from the woman’s lips. Her teeth showcased a pair of fangs. “Yes, Percy,” she responded coolly. “Consider this a warning, Rat. You have a fucking death wish.”

A stupid jolt of pride went up Annabeth’s spine. “You won’t kill me,” Annabeth spat. 

_Ha!_ _Not the best time for that good old hamartia to come out!_

The smile disappeared from the vampire’s face a second time. It unnerved Annabeth how a simple action completely drained her face of any remnant of humanity. Kneeling there, unmoving, posed like an undead beacon, Annabeth fought another urge to reach out and touch the woman’s arm. Would the vampire feel cold and stiff, like a dead body? 

Annabeth drove the macabre thought away. 

“I was,” the vampire hissed out. “But now—”

Then she stood up, impossibly fast, and suddenly the blade of a sword lodged itself in the side of the vampire’s abdomen. Warm blood spurted onto Annabeth’s face, and the vampire whirled around to see Percy standing there, eyes glowing like Greek fire, knuckles white from gripping the hilt of his sword. 

“Too slow, Ace,” she teased, unbothered by the blood spilling out her side.

Vines burst from the tiled floor and looped around the waist of the vampire, tightening around her like a python and then throwing her against the bathroom wall. Percy yanked his sword back and turned to face her, revealing Grover standing in the doorway.

More green tendrils erupted from the floor and the wall, encasing the vampire’s body in a leafy coffin while leaving her head exposed. There was a manic grin on her face.

“What are you doing here?” Percy asked. His voice was monotonous, unsettlingly calm, like he recognized her.

The vampire feigned an innocent look on her face. “What, I can’t drop by and say hi?”

Percy pressed the edge of his blade into the woman’s throat. The vines tightened around her body until the unmistakable noise of bones snapping and joints dislodging rang through the acoustics of the room. 

Annabeth’s eyes flew to Grover and she saw him with his flute against his mouth, playing a silent, deadly tune. There was an unmoving, stoic impression on his face she’d never seen before. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to see it again.

“I’ll cut you open.”

“What if I want that?” 

The tendrils squeezed until more bones broke and popped like twigs and firecrackers. The sound of it made Annabeth want to claw her ears off. She held back from screaming at Grover to stop.

Percy pressed his sword further into the woman’s neck until a thin line of red trailed down her skin.

Her shit-eating grin finally wavered. There was a visible line of sweat trailing down her forehead. “—sent me—want to—recruit you—” she managed, her throat moving against the blade edge. 

There was a brief moment of a silence, and Percy and the vampire glared at each other like they were having a telepathic conversation. Then Percy pulled his arm back and swung, but her body was replaced with a cloud of black smoke before his sword could connect with her throat.

The smoke seeped between the vines and swept under Percy and Grover. Annabeth watched, wide-eyed, as the black mist floated out of the room and slipped underneath the Amtrak station exit on the other wall of the corridor. 

For a few seconds, the room was silent between the three of them. Annabeth looked up at Percy, who was still facing the empty shell of knotted vines on the wall, left behind by the vampire, while Grover stared at the exit she had escaped from. 

“Percy…” Annabeth started, still struggling to swallow down the fright in her voice. The fear in her bones felt like a weight keeping her on the floor. “Who was that?”

He didn’t answer right away. “A mistake.”

Grover slumped onto the floor in a heap. 

Annabeth sprung forward before she realized her body was moving, half-crawling half-sprinting around Percy until she slid on her knees and knelt beside Grover. He was on his side, reed pipes sitting limply in his right hand, and eyes closed. Grover was pale, and his skin was slick with sweat as Annabeth grasped his hands. The satyr’s mouth was slightly ajar and Annabeth placed her ear next to it, only to hear him mumble “_ Fooood…” _

Annabeth sat back up, relieved, still holding Grover in her arms. Despite the horror of recent events, she couldn’t help but crack a sad smile. Grover had exhausted himself—who wouldn’t, after holding down a wendigo as tall as a building and a psycho vampire in one day?—and would need at least a night’s rest before they could carry on, but he would be fine. 

Then her smile was replaced with dread. If Grover decided to use any more of his magical energy, he could’ve used his vines to crush that vampire’s bones to dust. The thought of him doing so suddenly horrified her. Despite what they’ve both been through, it was still difficult to separate Grover now from the clumsy satyr from long ago, trying to get his Searcher’s license. 

But then again, who was she to dictate the limits of his power? That line was blurred for Annabeth long ago. 

_ Please don’t ever do that for me again, _ she thought solemnly, using her sleeve to wipe a bead of sweat off of Grover’s forehead.

Annabeth leaned over to peek down the corridor, and saw Luther slumped on the bench with their belongings. She craned her neck a little further and saw the others in the waiting room, passed out in their respective positions. Probably from the vampire’s illusion being broken. A distant thought told Annabeth she was relieved the time loop didn’t have to reset a second time. 

Illusions. Mind tricks. Another thing vampires could do, although it seemed like only the particularly strong ones were capable of doing that. 

The digital clock on the wall read 3:17 PM. Looks like everyone missed their train. Di Immortales_. _

Annabeth turned back to Percy, who was watching the vines recede back into the wall and floor, leaving crumbled tile and craters in their wake. “Grover needs somewhere to rest,” she said, mindful of keeping her voice steady. “We can’t keep going until he gets better.”

Percy finally turned to her, capping his sword and sheathing it as a pen. The predatory stare returned to his eyes, accompanied by a scowl that looked too natural on his face. Annabeth didn’t think he noticed the expression he had on.

Then Annabeth had a brief flashback to how ready he was to slaughter that female vampire without a moment’s hesitation. Had he been a millisecond faster, the vampire’s head would’ve been cut clean off. He and Grover seemed to work in tandem so fluidly to save Annabeth, to _ kill_, with no questions asked other than being prompted with potential danger. She was grateful for her companions, but they also terrified her.

And then she found herself asking the same question again: who was Percy Jackson?

_ The vampire hunter, the Prodigal Son…_

Percy only nodded grimly in response. 

_ The Executioner. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it folks! If everything goes according to plan, we are finally halfway through this story. Thanks for sticking around for this long. :')
> 
> EDIT: for clarification, i meant halfway as in half of this story in the trilogy series this is in! there are two predicted fics coming after this that continue our adventures, hehe. sorry bout that!


	14. Bad Coffee

To most people, the sweltering heat of Summer fading into Fall would be enough to cross anyone, but not Annabeth. The sweat pouring down her forehead and seeping into the fabric of Percy’s shawl was welcome. 

Heat brought back memories of sparring, of the lava rock climbing wall, of the Argo II engine room, of times where she could forgo her stresses—if only for a moment—and focus on something else. Placating memories of when things were just simply _ better _ settled into Annabeth’s mind as she and the others trudged through more back roads with only the clothes and bags on their backs.

Except Luther, who was literally carrying the semi-conscious form of Grover on his back. 

“Y’know, I’m starting to see what y’all meant when you said things never go to plan,” Luther said.

Annabeth cracked a smile. “You get used to it.”

Once Luther had finally roused from his illusion-induced stupor at the Amtrak, the four of them high-tailed it out of there, leaving the rest of the patrons unconscious. Once upon a time, Annabeth would have done something about the civilians’ safety, but she’s lived through too much to know that she could save more people if she simply stayed away.

Resting in a local motel with a powerful vampire in the near vicinity was too much of a risk, and all of their phones were practically useless, so no one protested the idea of leaving town on foot. With one man down, Annabeth and the others were exhausted, hungry, and probably dehydrated, but at least she had companions who could carry their own weight without bitching. Luther even felt so bad about being knocked out during the vampire encounter that he offered to carry Grover the whole way because: “It’s the least I can do.”

Now here they were, two hours later, traveling through more rural roads. The asphalt, so covered by dust and soil that it seemed more like a dirt road, and the grasslands and orchards that swept on both sides of it made the area look virtually the same as where Annabeth shot her first ghoul: the young farmer boy.

They were only three towns away from Whitefall, a pitiful distance compared to the amount of land they still had to cross to reach Stockton, if Tyson was even _ there _, but at least they were finally a comfortable range away from their earlier wendigo and vampire encounter.

Annabeth casted a weary glance at Percy, who led the group as point while she took rear guard. He’d barely spoken a word since they left the train station.

“Percy,” she said carefully, as if dipping her toes into deep waters, “why did that girl know you?”

_Ace_, the woman regarded Percy. _The_ _Executioner, _she warned Annabeth_._

Annabeth could only see Percy’s back, and even as she asked the question, he continued walking with his broad shoulders set, silent long enough for her to think that he was ignoring her. But then he finally answered. 

“I spared her life, once.”

The memory of Percy swinging his sword to the vampire's side flashed in front of Annabeth’s eyes; the glint of a blade, the blur of fabric, the squelch of sliced flesh. Annabeth reached up to touch her cheek, remembering the spatter of warm blood.

“A client put a hit out on her. Didn’t give many details to Gabe other than a general location, a fat payment, and instructions. All I was told was, ‘_ Follow the trail of dying beasts’. _” Percy let out a mirthless laugh. “I thought it was just some cryptic bullshit, until I got there. I followed the dying cattle, coyote, deer, and then I found her.”

Annabeth’s silence prompted him to continue.

“I… felt bad for her,” Percy admitted. “She told me her name was Carter. A newly-turned vamp, abandoned in the woods by whatever fucker brought her there, feeding on animals out of desperation. So I spared her, hid her. Then I came back home and told Gabe the job was done.”

Annabeth shot a look at Luther while Percy’s words sunk in. The half-ogre walked close enough for her to see his expression, and he seemed… unbothered. Like he’d heard this story before.

“Then what happened to her?” Annabeth asked.

“She survived,” Percy put simply. “Told me that she killed the guy that put the hit on her, and became a bounty hunter after that. One of the best, actually.”

“Then Gabe should have known you spared her life?”

Percy shook his head. “The only ones who knew what Carter looked like were me, and the client that hired me.” He paused, and then said, “When Tyson was busy with another hunt, Gabe sometimes contracted her with me.” 

_ Ah. _It all started to make sense. 

“So she’s your ex.”

This elicited a physical reaction from Percy that wasn’t from sheer anger—_ finally— _and he reached up to knead the back of his neck awkwardly. “She was more of a distraction, but—yeah.”

Luther let out a hearty laugh. “Men, women, all distracting. That’s life, kid.”

So Percy has an ex-vampire girlfriend he would kill on sight. That’s not too far from Annabeth’s own tortured past. Aside from Luke, she distantly wondered about Calypso, and how Annabeth had left her heartbroken on Ogygia. Calypso _ was _ Annabeth’s biggest _ what-if _, until the Titan returned to Camp Half-Blood with a presumably-dead-but-actually-alive Leo Valdez.

Did Percy spare Carter’s life before he became a vampire hunter? Was she the reason he turned _ into _a vampire hunter? Terrible relationships can really make someone cross the line between what’s worth saving and killing. 

Annabeth should know. Luke had done that to her. The unnerving similarities between Percy and Annabeth’s lives were so absurd she let out a snort. Attempted kills on your significant other were really something to bond over. 

_ The only difference is that you succeeded. _

“Well,” Annabeth started. “It seems whoever she’s working for thinks you’re important enough to recruit. Important enough to not to bother killing me.” 

This time Luther shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense. That wench ain’t loyal enough to do the grunt work for any employer. Something ain’t right.”

Percy nodded. “Carter’s an independent hunter. If she’s aiding whatever—_ King of Death— _we’re going up against, it’s because she’s got her own motives.” Then Percy turned his head back to glance at Annabeth. The sea-green fire in his eyes had dimmed into a humorless smolder. “And somehow, that’s got something to do with Athena.”

Annabeth trained her gaze back down to the dirt floor. The serpent symbol flashed inside her mind, Athena’s symbol_ , _ and goosebumps ran up her arms in spite of the heat. At least Annabeth knew who the target was in the first two prophecies; Kronos and Gaia. But this? She had no clue. Surely the gods were laughing at her, stripping her communication with the rest of the world and forcing her to clean up another godly mess.

Who _was_ the King of Death, and what did he have to do with Athena? At least the dream Annabeth had gave her a visual of some of his lackeys, but _what _exactly were they planning? To turn every living creature into a vampire or ghoul? 

Then Annabeth thought back to the prophecy. _ A betrayal against one’s own kind… _

What did that even _ mean? _

_ Questions, questions, questions. _ Every passing hour felt like wading blindly through an ocean. Annabeth sighed and reached up to touch the beads of her necklace. 

“I didn’t know vampires could do mind tricks at that scale,” Annabeth remarked quietly. The time loop probably would have scared her more had she not been trapped in the Lotus Hotel as a kid, but the memory of the limp, unmoving bodies of patrons caught under Carter’s illusion unnerved the hell out of her. It was too much like how Morpheous put the entire island of Manhattan to sleep. “Let alone turn into smoke and escape.”

“Only vampires that are centuries old are capable of that, but Carter’s nowhere near that age,” Percy answered grudgingly. “I have no idea how she got so powerful. I should’ve done something sooner.” 

Luther clapped a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have _ sensed it _ but—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Luther interrupted. Then he jabbed a thumb at himself. “Coming from _ me, _ who was out the whole ride, I’d say it’s nobody’s fault. The wench caught us at a bad time, and we just gotta make sure she doesn’t do that twice. For now, let’s just thank Miss Annie over here for saving our behinds.”

Percy didn’t say anything at first, but eventually murmured his agreement. Then he turned his head to cast a curious glance at Annabeth. “How did you see through her illusion?”

Annabeth opened her mouth with an answer, until she realized that she herself wasn’t entirely sure. How she managed to see through the time loop unlike all the others was beyond her, but she bet that being a demigod was part of it. 

“I think being a child of Athena let me see through her tricks,” Annabeth concluded. “And I drew out her ghoul with my… blood. Guess virgin blood is all the rage right now.”

Thanks to Luke. As much as she hated to admit it, his apparition _ did _ give her the key to drawing out the ghoul, and then Carter. Maybe it was an unfriendly visit from her ex in the Underworld. Or maybe it was her wits communicating to her via PTSD. Either way, Annabeth figured that spilling virgin blood to ghouls and vamps was like using technology for demigods; like it sent up a bright, yellow flare up in the sky alerting all the nearby monsters, _ “Look! Fresh meat over here!” _

Percy sent a tired grin, a pleasantry she’d rarely seen all day, and said, “That’s my Wise Girl.”

Heat flooded Annabeth’s features and she had half a mind to—nevermind.

She cleared her throat and diverted the subject. “Luther, can you repeat the info of this client in Stockton again?” Details. She needs to think about details and _ not _ about Percy’s face, or his broad shoulders, or the muscled ‘V’ of his back—

“Sure. Name he gave us was Ryan Forrester. Only Gabe and Tyson know what he looks like in person because, y’know, client privacy policy,” Luther shrugged off the logistic details, “but his file noted brown skin, black hair, beard, a little on the heavy side.”

Annabeth’s brow furrowed. It was better than nothing. “Well, can you still track Tyson’s scent, Percy?”

“Barely. He didn’t take the back roads.”

Annabeth nodded to herself. _ We’ll still stick to the original plan then. Head towards Stockton and save Tyson. _ Then she sighed. _ We need all the help we can get. _

Then a sudden breeze swept through the air that skimmed over the sweat on Annabeth’s neck, and she glanced up at a blushing sky. It was the late evening, and nightfall would come soon. Grover was still sweating bullets on Luther’s back, still exhausted, unfit for further travel. She inwardly cursed herself for not keeping spare tin cans inside her backpack.

Annabeth sent a silent prayer up to Olympus for shelter, hoping, wishing, that someone up there was listening—

“_ Finally!” _ Percy exclaimed. 

Then it came into view. Its flickering, fluorescent sign against the darkening horizon made it stand out against the surrounding trees and grassland, and Annabeth let out a sigh of relief. 

A gas station. 

* * *

Annabeth sipped at the stale cup of coffee in her hands, still warm, and found herself missing Ms. Jackson’s mochas back at Dusk Cafe. Grover was laying in the booth seat beside her, unconscious, with his head resting on her lap. Luther had excused himself to use the restroom, and Annabeth heard Percy idly chatting with strangers as he perused the station for additional supplies. 

She glanced out the window that overlooked four rows of gas station pumps, and a small rest area with benches and a few vehicles parked. On the opposite side of the dirt road stood a seemingly impenetrable treeline, where the acres of farmed land merged with the native forest. The sky was now an inky black expanse, showcasing the dim white lights of stars poking through like needles in fabric. 

In the center of it all was the moon, swollen to almost a perfect circle. Two more nights and it’ll be a full moon. Two more nights before Tyson becomes a test subject. 

Annabeth took a deep breath to steady her pulse, and reminded herself that she’s pulled through even _ worse _demigod time crunches. 

_ You’ve saved the world, like, twice, _ she thought to herself. _ It’ll be okay. _

She almost laughed at the absurdity. It was absolutely _ not _ okay. 

Annabeth leaned back into the booth, resting her head and letting her eyes flutter shut. It was the first time that day where she realized how _ exhausted _her body was. Letting herself relax on the seat felt like her limbs and muscles were coming undone—in the satisfying, chiropractic way where her bones seemed to realign at the slightest sensation of rest. Gods, Annabeth needed sleep. 

_ Just a few minutes wouldn’t hurt... _

Right at the cusp of unconsciousness, Luther grunted as he sat into the booth across, and Annabeth jolted awake in surprise. Grover shifted his head on her lap from the sudden movement, but otherwise remained unresponsive. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Luther mumbled, and set down his paper mug. He liked his coffee black. 

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Annabeth nodded and said, “It’s alright.” Then she drew in a deep breath and asked, “What’s Percy doing?”

Luther smirked and took a swig from his mug like it was a flask, which perturbed Annabeth._ Di Immortales, _it was literally still steaming. “Looks like he’s really shooting the shit with that pretty gal over there.” He nodded towards the entrance. 

Annabeth turned and saw Percy holding the front door open for a young brunette woman, about a year or two older than her. The woman stepped outside and Percy followed, grinning a grin that just didn’t seem like him, as the door swung shut behind him. Annabeth barely made the effort to hide the grimace on her face when she turned back to Luther. 

Luther laughed at her expression and Annabeth, with no energy to hold onto her frown, couldn’t help but crack a smile as well. “Gonna be a real problem if he brings that gal with us. We’re already one person over the limit, right? Something about only three people going on uh—” he snapped his fingers in thought, “—a quest?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth answered, staring idly at her mug. Then she looked back up upon realizing the implication of Luther’s words and said in a single breath, “But that doesn’t mean anything right now, you’re extremely important in this quest and if anything—”

Luther waved her off dismissively. “Just poking fun at you, girl. My role right now is making sure you kids make it to Stockton. Whatever happens after that is up to—” and he pointed up to the ceiling. _ The gods. _ “Just make sure y’all come back in one piece. The earful I’d get from Sally if her baby boy got hurt under my watch…” Then he shuddered. Annabeth wasn’t sure if he did that for comedic effect, or if he was remembering the last time Sally unleashed her wrath. 

(Annabeth decided that she never wanted to see the latter).

She sank back into her seat, reassured. “If anything,” she mumbled, “_ I _feel like the useless one. You, Percy, Grover, you’re all so strong. The way you guys took down that wendigo.” Annabeth shook her head. “All I did was pull a trigger.”

“Girl, if you haven’t noticed, without you,” Luther gestured to Grover, Percy from outside, and then himself, “the three of us make up _ one _brain cell.”

Annabeth laughed.

“And without you, we’d all be dust at the train station.” Luther lifted his mug to his face and revealed a knowing smile. “Besides, the boy never takes his eyes off you.”

She felt a blush creep up to her face, and Annabeth turned to the side. Yeah, she was attracted to Percy. There was no denying that. Fine, maybe she lusted after him _a little_ _bit_ as well. Whatever. Percy’s flirty advancements here and there didn’t make those things any easier to deny.

But still, there he was, chatting it up with a pretty brunette girl outside.

Annabeth’s gaze went down into her cup, watching the swirls of creamer disappear into the center of the coffee. If she focused at just the center and let the rest of the world in her vision fade away, she could pretend that she was back at Dusk Cafe. Back before she first had a conversation with Percy Jackson. Back before passing out in Percy’s arms and receiving yet _ another _ prophecy. Back before meeting Gabe Ugliano and his whip, and his bodyguards and his contracted hunters and meeting Luther and—

“Luther,” Annabeth said, interrupting her train of thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about something that hasn’t made much sense to me.”

His eyes lifted. The unreadable expression on Luther’s face mirrored Annabeth’s sudden change in tone. 

Annabeth took in a deep breath and told Luther about the events leading to the time loop at the Amtrak. She detailed how Percy revealed to her parts of his past, concerning him and his mother moving to Southern California when he was around twelve years old. “Sally taught him how to hunt monsters. Then he started working for Gabe. That whole time he was talking, he didn’t mention you at all.”

Luther remained silent, listening to Annabeth speak with an indecipherable patience. 

“Back at Gabe’s, you told us you’ve known Percy since he was a baby. The way Percy made things sound, it seems like it was just him and Sally for the first twelve years of his life. What _ I _want to know is—” 

Then Annabeth leveled her gaze with Luther.

“—which one of you is lying?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends!
> 
> I apologize that a lot of this chapter was just dialogue, but considering all the events that happened in the past few scenes (it's only been a few days for them!) I think our heroes need a break. I also felt like it was necessary as a recap and set the tone for more things to come.
> 
> Sorry it took a while for the next update! Life has been a whirlwind and living in midst of a pandemic isn't really helping. I found the motivation to write this while avoiding summer school work, and I realized that with everything I planned out, this story might be even longer than I expected LOL. Which is a good thing for you guys! I really want to explore a lot of themes here and make sure a lot of loose ends are tied up. Thanks for being so patient.
> 
> Also, I apologize (not really) for keeping Percy and Annabeth so tantalizingly out of reach of each other, hehe. Slow burn romances are so fun, aren't they? 
> 
> I haven't gotten to responding to all the other comments, but trust me, I read them! They really make my day and encourage me to keep writing. It makes me so happy knowing something I wrote makes other people happy too. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	15. On the Styx

“What if we’re both telling the truth?”

Annabeth’s eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Luther’s expression. Her fingertips danced over the outline of her knife, strapped outside her leggings. 

He lowered his mug to reveal an honest grin; one that held no malice. Then he held his hands in front of him, palms up, and said, “Look, if y’all manage to come back with all your limbs, I’ll tell you. I promise.”

“Swear on the River Styx,” Annabeth said coolly. Luther shot her a look of slight confusion and she said, “It’s Greek. Severe punishment for anyone who breaks their oath.” 

Luther placed a hand on his heart—he really didn’t have to—and said, “I swear on the River Styx that at the end of this quest, if we all come back with our behinds intact, I’ll tell you all you need to know.”

Annabeth kept her gaze steady and firm, the beginnings of a storm brewing in her pale eyes.

“And,” Luther added, “I’m one of the good-ish guys. I won’t double cross you, Annabeth, er—”

“Chase.”

“—Chase. On the River Styx.”

Annabeth nodded, reassured by Luther’s oath, and she sank back into her seat. Too tired to analyze the implication of Luther’s earlier words, she was just glad to know that any trust she placed on him was now bound by an additional asset. Now to do the same with Percy… 

_ So they’re both telling the truth. How does that even work? _

A loud snore from Grover interrupted the tension in the air, followed by a low mumble of “_ Foooood…” _ Then Grover curled up in the seat, and proceeded to snore. 

Luther blew out a breath. “Tell me about it.” 

“Percy should’ve gotten us more food and supplies—”

“And something even better.” 

Annabeth turned to see Percy approaching the booth with a wolfish grin on his face, and no pretty brunette gal in sight. In his hands was a set of keys, glinting under the gas station’s LED ceiling lights. 

Percy dangled them in the air. “A way out of here.”

* * *

Scooby Doo couldn’t hold a candle to the RV Percy managed to score. The outside looked like your standard class C motorhome, but the entire inside had been renovated with new appliances and utilities to comfortably house a traveling group. 

The back end of the vehicle was large enough to accommodate a small bedroom, fit with a queen-sized bed. On the adjacent wall was the restroom, all the fixtures porcelain, that even housed a considerably roomy shower. Opposite to that was the kitchen sink, stove, and fridge, placed next to the dinette that sported a table and booth seating. Another sofa was fitted on the opposite side, light blue and decorated with pillows. At the other end, twin bunks shielded with curtains were built into both walls with storage cabinets underneath.

The RV was decorated with small potted succulents and houseplants over its surfaces, and had white, fairy lights strung all throughout the ceiling. Boho tapestry hung on the walls beside the beds, and “Live, Laugh, Love” pillows adorned almost every cushion. Everything was completely furnished, and the decorations inside the RV reminded Annabeth of her first dorm room. 

Annabeth smiled to herself as she thought about Piper, and how her friend would have loved going on a roadtrip in here. She set down her and Grover’s backpacks onto the dining table. 

Luther entered the RV with the unconscious form of Grover, whose earlier breaths had transformed into full-on snoring, on his back. He looked around, made an approving nod at the interior, and carried Grover to the queen bedroom at the end of the corridor.

Annabeth went up to the wall that barriered the rest of the RV from the driver’s side, and noticed that the partition was modified so that it was soundproof once closed. She stared at it for a minute, wondering, and then a blush dusted Annabeth’s cheeks as she realized the partition’s purpose. She promptly turned away—

The smell of sea and spice flooded her.

—and walked right into Percy. 

At first, Annabeth could only see gray shirt and blue flannel before realizing that she was staring at Percy’s chest. Then she looked up and his eyes blazed into a brilliant sea green pyre down at her, and he seemed… different, in the subtlest of ways. Like his features were full of color and something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

Annabeth wanted to ask why, but she was too busy staring into his eyes to know what to say...

Then the bedroom door creaked and Luther reentered the corridor, shooting Percy and Annabeth a thumbs up to signal that Grover was put to bed. The satyr’s thunderous snores were now muffled behind the closed door. 

Annabeth blinked, and she nervously stepped back. 

Percy stayed in place, gaze still pursuing over Annabeth with an unmistakable heat, but he spoke with a practiced nonchalance and an endearing smirk. “What do you think?”

Annabeth tried to mirror his calm. “It’s perfect,” she noted. Then her eyes swept the interior one more time and she asked, “How did you even score this?”

Luther went up to Percy and they fist bumped. 

“What am I missing?”

Percy set down his backpack, supplies from the gas station, and a case of beer on the dining table. Then he plopped down onto the sofa and said, “That girl I was talking to? I bought this RV from her.”

_ Oh. _

“What? Just like that?”

“Mhm.”

“What about registration, or insurance—” Annabeth closed her mouth before she could be interrupted. 

_I__'m not going to question this_, she thought, _and just send a prayer of thanks to Olympus_. 

She prayed thanks to the gods.

Percy crossed his arms behind his head. “We can worry about that later.”

Annabeth looked to Luther. “Did you know he was doing this?”

Luther shrugged. “Nope.” Then he went over the dining table to rifle through the bags of new supplies, pulling out a sandwich and a bottle of water. “I’m gonna eat and have a quick smoke outside.” He nodded his head at the picnic benches outside the window. “After that we can hit the road. I’ll drive.”

This left Percy and Annabeth alone in the corridor, and she quickly turned away and pretended to go through her backpack to busy herself. She idly counted the drachmas, ambrosia, and the rest of her personal belongings.

“You’re annoyed at me. I smelled it earlier.”

Annabeth wanted to cough. “Do you _ have _ to say it like that?” she groaned, exasperated. Then she turned back towards her backpack and pulled out a new set of clothes alongside a bag of other restroom supplies. “And I’m not annoyed. I was just—suspicious.” 

Piper would have totally called out that lie. It was already blatantly obvious, but the daughter of Aphrodite would have loved pointing it out loud anyways. 

Percy smiled, a genuine smile, and uncrossed his arms behind his head so he could lean forward. “I know. That’s why I grabbed this.” He walked up to the table next to Annabeth and pulled out a bottle of wine from the supply bags. “You seem like someone who likes Stella Rosa, so,” Percy held it out to her, “Is this okay?” He gestured to the case of Modelos. “That’s mostly for me and Luther. I figured Grover would want the tin cans too, if he doesn’t mind beer.”

Annabeth looked at the wine, then at the beer, and sheepishly asked, “Did you also get vegetarian food for Grover like I told you?”

Percy nodded and gave her a boy-scout grin. 

“Okay. Peace offering accepted.” 

Annabeth found the courage to look back at Percy’s face and found herself enjoying the way he looked when he wasn’t brooding. A distant thought in the back of her head made her wonder what she would do, if they were together in under different circumstances. If she decided to go into Dusk Cafe to study, or if she’d ran into Percy on campus, or even if they’d met at Camp Half-Blood…

She pulled herself away to shove her backpack onto one of the twin bunks. “How long until we reach Stockton?”

Percy searched through the bags and pulled out a sandwich for himself. “Before noon tomorrow, if nothing goes wrong.” He glanced at the clothes Annabeth held in her hands. “You should eat after showering. It’s been a long day.”

Annabeth nodded, and excused herself to the restroom. Overall, it was a small space to have a sink, toilet, and shower cramped into one room, but Annabeth was finally relieved to have a place where she could scrub off the wendigo and ghoul muck that still clung to her body.

She shrugged off her clothes and stepped underneath the running showerhead, welcoming the cold water. Annabeth let the streams extinguish the warmth of her skin and chill her bones, so she wouldn’t have to think about the events of the day. Of the impending conflict. Of her mother’s messes or the gods’ negligence. 

Once she was done, Annabeth stepped out in a new pair of clothes: Nike shorts, a black tank top, her knife sheathed inside a thigh holster, and, for good measure, the green shawl. Percy had already finished his food and a can of beer, and was gathering his own supplies to shower with. While Annabeth walked to her bunk to put her things away, she glanced outside the window to see Luther sharing his lighter with another fellow having a cigarette. Then, grabbing a water bottle from their rations, Annabeth crept inside the bedroom and placed it beside Grover in case he woke up in the middle of the night.

The restroom door shut as Percy went inside, and Annabeth could hear the showerhead water run once more. Now alone in the corridor, she went over to the dinette and organized their supplies into the storage cabinets in the kitchen. When she was done, she eyed the bottle of Stella Rosa on the table, and she grabbed a glass from the cabinet.

She poured herself the black wine and relished the sweet taste once it hit her tongue. Annabeth loved Stella Rosa because she couldn’t taste the alcohol. She liked fruity drinks. Sue her. 

She sat on the couch and sipped and poured the wine as the minutes went by. Annabeth even went and turned off the main lightning and turned on the fairy lights so the RV radiated a warm, friendly glow. Once Luther’s head popped up the steps of the RV, Annabeth was done with her second glass. With the butt of his cigarette still in his mouth, he patted the wall and said, “I’m gonna to get her started up now.”

“You don’t want to rest first?”

“Had enough of that back at the Amtrak. I’ll let you know if we reach a bump in the road, since, y’know, that seems to happen a lot.” Then Luther folded the stairs back up and closed the door. 

When the engine was started and Percy emerged from the restroom, his jet-black hair dripping with water, Annabeth was already pouring herself a fourth glass of wine. 

Concern etched his features and he sighed, “You didn’t eat, did you?”

Though the windows were open to let the cool night air in, Annabeth felt the buzz warm up her face again. She welcomed the cold. She welcomed the heat. She welcomed the lightness in her body from the alcohol, and she couldn’t hide the girlish smile on her face in contrast to Percy’s disapproving look. 

Percy. He stood there in a pair of black sweatpants with his torso completely bare. Annabeth didn’t even bother trying to hide the fact that her eyes were roaming his body, because aside from the lean muscles of his chest and arms that made him look like a sculpted athlete, he had tattoos. 

Two, actually. The first one was of ocean waves drawn in a similar style of the Japanese art piece, The Great Wave, on his shoulder, spilling onto his chest and just underneath his collarbone. The second tattoo was a much simpler piece on his opposite arm: two solid black bands winding around the muscle above his bicep. Percy’s tattoos were placed carefully so that they’d be hidden underneath a short-sleeved shirt, but now, with his torso exposed, Annabeth couldn’t help but stare. 

Percy, however, seemed to dismiss it and swung a towel over his shoulder. His mouth was in a hard line and Annabeth flushed and looked away as he went over to the kitchenette to grab a water bottle from fridge. Then, after replacing the wine glass with the water in her hand, Percy sat down on the dining booth and rubbed the towel into his hair. 

“You’re drunk.”

“Only a little.”

Percy was silent for a moment, pondering, and then remarked, “While I was showering, the memory came back to me. Of what happened during the time loop.” He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it as if he changed his mind. When he finally decided to continue, he asked tentatively, “Are you okay?”

A sudden weight blanketed Annabeth’s shoulders, and her mind flashed back to the scene in the train station, where she saw Luke’s form in the mirror. 

Her heart twisted. Annabeth closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the rest. “No,” she murmured. “I’m not okay. I haven’t been in a long while.”

Annabeth pulled her knees to her chest, letting her bangs fall forward and shadow her eyes. The RV rumbled as it crawled through the dark streets, and through the open window Annabeth could hear Luther playing classic rock and belting along to the music as he drove. Grover continued to snore from the room albeit quietly now, probably because he was in a proper bed, and the only other noise that filled the charged air between Percy and Annabeth were her sniffles. 

Percy didn’t say anything, inviting her to continue. 

And for the first time, Annabeth did. 

“I saw my… my ex in the mirror. At the station.” She hiccuped. “Us demigods…. get weird visions. Usually when we sleep, sometimes when we’re awake. The visions can be helpful, and this one was.”

Annabeth leaned forward and placed a hand on her forehead, steadying herself. “Well, somewhat. I never want to see Luke’s face again, but… he helped me. Told me it was in my blood. I couldn’t handle it, seeing him. After everything he’d done to me. He used me, manipulated me.”

Annabeth couldn’t help it. She felt tears wet her lashes, and tried to blink them away. Memories of her and Luke, eight years ago, when he revealed himself as the traitor of the camp, flooded her senses and spilled out of her mouth in a slur. 

She spoke about how when she was fifteen, the child of the Great Prophecy, and Luke visited her to convince her to run away with him; so he could run away from becoming Kronos’s host; so she could run away from her fate. She revealed how Luke made her fall in love with him in the year before she turned sixteen, in spite of their seven year age difference, and in midst of the impending war between her camp and his forces. She spoke about the unspeakable things she did as he groomed her, things that no fifteen year old should have endured—

"I almost let him. I almost let Kronos win. I almost abandoned my friends for Luke." Annabeth barely noticed herself trembling.

She told Percy of how she couldn’t look at herself in the mirror for months after her sixteenth birthday. How she wished she could shed her body like a second skin. 

She’ll never forget how everyone at camp started to look at her like a bomb, seconds away from bursting. Or how her stepmother told her that she wasn’t even recognizable. Or how Jason and Piper and Leo begged her not to take down Gaia in fear of Annabeth going too far. She’ll never forget how her pent up rage manifested, in the way she started to enjoy combat, how she would hunt down Hades’s monsters, how Tartarus became a playing field for her...

Annabeth didn’t mention how she killed Luke with her own knife; how she wrenched it into his skin and she sobbed while doing so. She had a feeling that Percy could already guess.

“I just…” Annabeth whimpered. “I—”

Sea. Spice.

Percy’s arms enveloped her in an embrace and, after seizing up for just a moment at the sudden touch, she let herself sink into them. When was the last time, she wondered, she let herself be held like this? 

Annabeth leaned forward and let their combined weight descend to the floor. Percy shifted so his back leaned against the foot of the couch, and Annabeth was curled up against him. She was tired. So, so tired. And in that moment, Percy’s arms felt like the safest place in the world. 

Percy lowered his face into her curls, breathed her in, and then pulled her body tightly against his. “You didn’t deserve that,” he said. “Any of that.” 

“How can you even look at me?” Annabeth said in a voice so pained that it came out in a laugh. “I’m…” _ Despicable. _

“I look at you,” Percy whispered, his voice low. “Even when I shouldn’t.”

Annabeth stifled a sob and buried her face into his chest. 

Percy’s hand reached up, grazing the side of her arm, and gently tugged at the shawl around Annabeth’s neck until it came free. “You...” he began, his baritone lulling, “you don’t need to wear this, for now. You’re safe with me.”

Annabeth closed her eyes as Percy unwound the scarf around her neck. It was another simple gesture, like the times when he would adjust the shawl for her, and yet it still felt so intimate. 

“Swear it on the River Styx,” Annabeth whispered. She didn’t have the courage to look back up at him, nor explain the weight of such an oath. She only hoped he knew what it meant. “That I’m safe with you.”

Percy pulled her closer and rested a hand on her head, lightly drawing his fingers through her curls while he murmured, “You’re safe with me. On the Styx.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends!
> 
> Whoa! Two chapters in one week?
> 
> I was really excited to write this chapter because I knew I'd been feeding crumbs of Percabeth for literally an entire year since I started this fic LMFAO but I really wanted to just shove it in the limelight at this point because our bbs deserve it. Keep in mind, also, that I rated this fic as "Explicit" not just for the violence but, ehem, for other things as well! So that's something to look forward too. :)
> 
> Can't predict when the next chapter will go up--hopefully soon, but I really wanted to get this out of my system so I could finally focus on my university work LOL. 1 more year 'til I graduate, hehe. I also have some intense planning to do so I can make this story as flawless as possible.
> 
> This also means that my other standalone fic "Red Christmas" may no longer be canon in this series. Previous chapters may be edited as well, but more so for stylistic reasons! I won't be changing the plot, just rewriting some stuff. I never expected myself to get so involved in this story and for so many people to be excited over it, but nevertheless it makes me want to keep writing. 
> 
> Thanks for the support y'all. <3


	16. It's Not Palpatine

“I would like to apologize,” Artemis began. She absentmindedly stroked the fur of the deer that lay beside her, contentedly resting its head in her lap. She and Percy were sitting inside a tent, not unlike the one Annabeth had been in when she first met Artemis. They were cross-legged on a silk rug, while a golden brazier burned between them. 

If Annabeth were in her physical form, she’d be sweating pools. Artemis was one of the few gods who’d actually come to respect the demigod, but encountering them almost always meant trouble was just around the corner. 

Luckily, this was just a memory that Annabeth was witnessing, one that wasn’t _ hers, _ as she watched Percy twirl the broken shaft of an arrow in his fingers. There was a bandage around his forearm where the arrow from earlier had struck him, and the hole in his jeans suggested that the other arrowhead had been removed from his thigh.

“My hunters were tracking what was behind the recent carnage in this forest, and assumed it was your hellhound,” Artemis explained, her ancient eyes studying Percy’s. “Instead, you were the one who disposed of it before us, correct?”

Percy nodded gravely. He looked exhausted, but in better shape than in the last dream Annabeth had. The scrapes and cuts on his arms were almost entirely gone, probably because of some on-the-spot godly healing Artemis had done for him, and the twigs and leaves were brushed out of his hair. 

“Abandoned ghoul in the woods mauling wildlife for food,” Percy answered. “I was hired to kill it, and I brought my dog with me.”

Artemis nodded, unfazed by the fact that Percy had a hellhound for a pet. “Make sure to keep him away from celestial bronze, stygian steel, and imperial gold. They’re the only ores that can hurt Mrs…” her voice trailed off in thought.

“Mrs. O’leary,” Percy corrected, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Hours ago, you were about to off him. Now you’re telling me how to protect him.”

“My duty is to preserve the wild, and keep the balance.”

Percy sat still, considering her words, and then set aside the broken arrow shaft on the floor beside him. He hardened his gaze and asked, “What are you?”

A knowing smile crept up to the goddess’s lips. “I am Artemis.”

Silence fell upon them, aside from the crackling hum of the brazier between them. From outside the tent, Annabeth could hear the other hunters bustling around, tending to their duties. Footsteps from their guardian wolves pacing around the campsite was audible. Mrs. O’leary’s unmistakable panting was heard through the tent wall beside Percy. 

Then Percy nodded with practiced professionalism. “You’re the first god I’ve ever met. It’s an honor.”

The way he answered reminded Annabeth of her first impression of him when they met: cold and unreadable. 

Artemis’s smirk softened into a small smile. “In a different life, we would have met much earlier. But now…” the goddess gestured around them, as if she was referring to something much grander than their surroundings. “This is nature’s way of correcting itself.” 

Percy frowned. “What do you mean by that? And about my fate?”

“Perhaps I am lamenting too much over a time that should have been.” Artemis stroked the horn of the deer and the animal let out a low, satisfied bleat. “Some methods in which nature adjusts itself is beyond my control. It is why I must be here to keep the balance, but gods cannot interfere with human affairs. Do you understand?”

Percy’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

Artemis sighed. “You must correct a mistake I made long ago.” 

_ There _it is. Don’t get Annabeth wrong, Artemis definitely makes the top ten of her favorite god list, but you can never make it through a godly encounter without having to do one of their chores.

Artemis raised her hand, and a blade manifested in the air before her. Annabeth immediately recognized it: it was Percy’s. The sword he uses today. 

The weapon floated to Artemis, and a plastic cap appeared in her palm. She touched the cap to the tip of the blade, and the sword transformed into an unassuming pen. Artemis handed it to Percy, and said, “This weapon has the ability to turn into a pen, and reappear inside your pocket. You will never lose it.”

Percy took it and inspected it in his hands. He uncapped the pen and the sword sprung to his life. Then he took out his hunting knife, and compared the two weapons. “This feels… right,” he mused.

“It is but a crude replica of the weapon you should have wielded,” the goddess replied.

_Does she mean Riptide?, _Annabeth thought with bone-chilling realization. This sword is steel, while Riptide was celestial bronze. Was _Percy_ supposed to wield Riptide instead?

“I don’t…” Percy whispered to himself, turning the blade around in his hands. He tucked away his hunting knife, but continued to inspect the sword. Then he looked back up at Artemis, meeting her eyes. “I don’t understand. What do I have to fix for you?”

Artemis shook her head. “I wish I could tell you now, but I fear the Fates may punish me if I reveal the truth at this time. Your destiny has already been warped once. Granting you the knowledge of what’s to come may disrupt your future once more.”

Percy frowned again, and then steeled his composure. “Then how will I know what to do?”

“You will meet a girl, half-god and half-human, and she will guide you.”

Percy capped the sword and toyed with the pen, sliding the cap up and down in one hand without fully unsheathing it. “Demigod,” he murmured to himself. Doubt was evident in his face, but from the way he looked, he didn’t seem all that surprised. Maybe being born and raised in the hunting business meant that staying closed-minded was the easiest way to get you killed. 

“What’s she like?” he finally asked.

Artemis’s eyes glittered. “Beautiful. The wisest you will ever meet. But as of now, she is taking on an impossible task.”

Was this around the time Annabeth was preparing to wage war against Kronos? She was around fifteen then, and, from doing the math, that means Percy must be around sixteen in this memory.

Percy nodded, more so to himself rather to Artemis, and stared at the pen in his hand hesitantly. Then he pocketed it, and said, “I don’t know if I trust you. But I guess I’ll find out later.”

“Precisely.”

“Can you tell me more about demigods, then?” 

Annabeth opened her mouth like she was going to say something, then realized she didn’t have a mouth in her apparitional form. Percy and Artemis continued to speak, but their voices were now inaudible. A familiar tugging feeling manifested in Annabeth’s gut, and she was launched back up into the sky. 

After a moment of being airborne, Annabeth’s form was pulled back down to witness another scene. 

At first, everything was black. Then a voice sounded from the nothingness that chilled Annabeth down to the core. 

_ “You failed.” _

Initially, Annabeth thought it was speaking to her. Then the world materialized, and what she saw made her thankful she was invisible. 

She was in a dark room, lit only by torches that lined every wall, and carpeted with a wine red spread that looked almost black. Dark curtains were hung from the ceiling, draped around the sconces and pooling on the floor below. A sickly-sweet scent perfumed the air and felt like candle wax building in the back of her throat. There was a vibration in the air that radiated to every area in the room, and following the source of the energy drew Annabeth’s sight to the front. A raised dais stood in display, and a wooden cathedra embossed with black velvet perched on top of it.

In its seat was a large figure, face and body hidden by a silken cloak. 

_ The King of Death. _

On sight alone, Annabeth _ would _ have said that this figure didn’t intimidate her (she’s seen worse), but the way his voice crawled into the essence of her being and triggered her fight-or-flight response was enough to make her think otherwise. 

From energy alone, Annabeth could see an inexperienced demigod mistaking this man as a god.

In his lap sat Helena. Her long legs were thrown over one arm of the cathedra, and her face was buried under the hood of his cloak. Then, moments later, she raised her face to the light, and fresh blood dribbled down her lips and chin. 

_ Was she… drinking his blood? _

Annabeth followed Helena’s gaze to the other figure in the room. There, kneeling in front of the dais, was Carter. Her head was pointed down to the floor in shame.

“Leave us,” instructed the King. Promptly, Helena sat up from the cathedra and descended down the dais, sparing no glance to Carter as she passed by. After leaving the room, Annabeth returned her attention to the King, and wanted to gasp.

His eyes glowed a brilliant bright red. It was the only feature that could be seen under the darkness of his cloak, and one that Annabeth recognized from somewhere else. Not from the beta vampires, not from Carter, but from—_ where? _

“You were to dispose of the Rat and gather more forces. And you failed at both tasks,” the King continued, his voice like a knife shredding through the open air. 

“I apologize,” Carter choked out, and for some reason Annabeth wanted to feel _ bad _for her. “But I must confess these actions were intentional.”

“And why is that?”

“The Rat is traveling with an old accomplice of mine, and I do not believe she will survive their journey. And I—I,” she stuttered, “I think can convince him to join us. I need more time.” 

Silence descended the room for a painfully long time. 

Then the King spoke again.

“That is not enough.” And he raised a gloved hand. 

Annabeth couldn’t see what Carter was seeing, but it was enough to make the vampire scream and topple back onto the floor as she cowered in fear. _ “No!” _ she cried out, and she trembled in the face of this invisible threat. Clawing backwards on the carpet to evade it, she shrieked, “ _ I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll do better! I’ll _—”

And all the torches shut off as Carter continued to scream. The instinctual part of Annabeth wanted to throw up from the sheer terror in Carter’s voice, yet she couldn’t detect a third presence in the room that would be inducing this fear.

_ Illusions, _ Annabeth remembered. _ It must be an illusion only Carter can see. _

Carter’s cries grew louder, and louder, and _ louder _ until they reached a crescendo of agony that only cornered prey would truly understand until it suddenly stopped, and Annabeth was _ convinced _ the vampire had to be dead—

Then the lights came back on. 

Carter didn’t look physically hurt, but the expression on her face said otherwise. Her skin was pale white, making the veins on her face and neck stand out like lightning streaks. By how wide her eyes were stretched out in fear, Annabeth finally had a good look of their actual color. Her true eyes were a rich brown, and it made her look entirely human. 

“Kill the Rat.” the King instructed. “Kill your friend if he will not join us. Fail me again and you will suffer worse.”

He lowered his hand down on the cathedra arm. 

“Now, young one, come and drink.”

* * *

Annabeth woke up with a hankering for enchiladas. She sat up on the couch, and was surprised to find a bundle of blankets wrapped around her. In one hand, she clutched Percy’s scarf against her chest. The other loosely hovered over her knife’s thigh holster—which was a normal occurrence. (Yeah, Annabeth regularly slept with her knife by her side. Don’t ask how many times she’s freaked out her cabin mates this way.)

“Grover?” she asked, and rubbed the sleep away from her eyes. He was sitting at the kitchenette with a bright expression on his face, dressed in jeans and another one of Percy’s old band shirts, Black Sabbath, while happily munching on microwaved enchilada. Beside him sat Percy, still shirtless and dressed in the same black joggers from last night, sipping at a Modelo. 

Annabeth asked Grover, “How do you feel?”

The satyr patted his stomach and said, “Good enough that I almost forgot we’re heading towards total danger.” Then he frowned and added, “Though I do have a small headache.” 

Annabeth looked to the empty glass of Stella Rosa on the kitchen table, then at Percy, who had a knowing smirk on his face. “Right,” she said with a sheepish grin, and she pulled the covers off her. 

After washing up and brushing her teeth, she put on a new outfit. Keeping her black tank top, she pulled on black leggings, a burgundy zip-up sweater, and Nikes. She hesitated with Percy’s shawl, then decided to wear it too. Percy _ did _ tell her that she now didn’t need to wear it around him, but at this point, it comforted her. Perhaps for more reasons than she would like to admit.

Then the temporary warmth in her chest died as memories of her dream came back to her. Of Artemis, of Carter, of the King of Death. 

Once out of the bathroom, she grabbed a sandwich from their rations, and went over to the front to pull down the partition between the living area and the driver’s seat.

Glancing at the time in the dashboard, Annabeth noted it was 11 AM. The highway view in the windshield revealed they weren’t quite yet at Stockton, but the billboards and creeping infrastructure on both sides of the roads suggested they were close.

Luther nodded his head. “Yeah, kid?”

“You eat yet?” 

“I’m good. Something up?” 

Annabeth nodded, and headed over to the kitchenette to sit beside Grover. She was well aware of the curious looks Percy and Grover gave her, and she cleared her throat to announce, “I had another dream.”

The crew remained silent as Annabeth recounted the details of her nightmare, deliberately leaving out the first part concerning Percy’s encounter with Artemis. She told them of the King of Death, and how she saw Helena was drinking his blood. She detailed how Carter was punished for not killing Annabeth or bringing back Percy, and the King’s ability to induce painful illusions for vampires as well. Then she explained how, in the end, he beckoned Carter to drink his blood too. 

By the time she finished, her appetite was gone, but Annabeth forced herself to eat the rest of her sandwich.

“The King of Death must be an ancient vampire, then. He has to be centuries old,” Percy muttered in thought. 

“I just don’t understand what that has to do with Athena, though,” Annabeth remarked.

“Well,” Grover set down his fork. “We now know why Carter has those super cool vampire powers. She’s drinking his blood.” 

Percy mumbled in agreement. “She’s probably the one who’s also been cleaning up my kill streak,” he added. “Only her, Tyson, Luther, and my mom know my MO well enough to pick it out from miles away.”

“She didn’t kill Annabeth too, even though she had the chance,” Grover wondered aloud. He turned to Annabeth. “She doesn’t think you can handle it.”

Annabeth scowled. She can _ so _ handle it. If Carter thinks Percy’s so much of a bad boy that Annabeth can’t pull her own weight, she’ll just have to prove _ otherwise _the next time they see each other. Preferably with her gun or knife.

Then she swallowed down her pride. Right now wasn’t the time for her hamartia to challenge a servant of death. The fucking _ King _ of Death. 

“I can handle it,” Annabeth resorted to grumbling. 

“What about that kingly pain-in-the-ass? Did you get a good look at him?” Luther called from the driver’s seat.

“No,” Annabeth said. 

_ But his eyes, _ a voice in her head whispered. _ You saw his eyes. _

Annabeth continued, “He was covered in a cloak.”

“What, like, Sheev Palpatine?” Percy asked, and Grover snickered beside him while Luther barked out a laugh.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but then said, “Well—kind of. But… scarier, and beefier. So far we know he’s converting regular people into vampires with this formula, but what’s he trying to do with werewolves?”

“Maybe make a vampire-werewolf hybrid. They exist, but extremely rare.”

Grover paused. “I thought they’re enemies?”

“Not really,” Percy shrugged. “They just had the same food source at one point in history, but modern werewolves have adapted to hunting wildlife instead of humans once a month.”

“I—” Grover began, red creeping up to his cheeks. Then the satyr shook his head and forced his gaze down at his idle plate of food. “As the current Lord of the Wild, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Annabeth blew out a breath. “_ Di Immortales.” _

Then a shadow cast over Percy’s face, and he set down his empty can of beer. “Did you… see Tyson? Do you know if he’s okay?”

Annabeth swallowed, and crumpled up the remains of her food in its wrapper. She shook her head, “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

Percy nodded curtly, and then stood up from the kitchenette. He went over to one of the twin bunks and rummaged through his backpack, pulling out bathroom supplies and another pair of clothes.

“We’ll get to him in time,” Grover tried to send out reassurance, and Annabeth appreciated hearing him say that. Having started out from completely distrusting Percy in the beginning, to attempting weak words of comfort, was decent progress.

After all, Annabeth had no choice but to place her full trust in Percy Jackson. He had sworn on the Styx, and saved their lives more than once. But there were still some things she's noticed, things she's worked out in her head, she'd rather not reveal for the sake of not compromising their current quest: get to Tyson.

And now, especially after those dreams, Annabeth couldn’t help but look upon Percy in a different light. She finally made some sense of the sheer depth in his eyes that held the weight of a truth, one even _ he _may not be aware of, beyond their control and could no longer be changed—just accepted.

Because Riptide was _ Annabeth’s _sword, before she gave it to Luke. 

“You guys might wanna see this,” Luther announced.


	17. With Grace

“What is—”

Then it landed on the roof. 

Annabeth glanced up to the ceiling as a massive dent erupted from the top paneling. She, Percy, and Grover sprung up from their seats in unison while Luther yelled out, “_ Shit!” _and the RV swerved. Annabeth grabbed onto the edge of the kitchen table to steady herself as the vehicle came to a screeching halt on the side of the road. 

_ CREEEAAAKKK. _

The ceiling panel above them started to warp. Whatever _ thing _stood up there wrenched its fingers between the cracks, and started ripping out the metal barrier. Immediately, the three of them darted out from the kitchenette and headed for the door. 

_ Fuck! _Annabeth cursed inwardly as she tumbled amid a bed of weeds. She patted the area where she normally kept her gun holstered, and it was empty. Drawing in a sharp breath, Annabeth withdrew her knife and glared at the pale set of eyes above her. 

_ “FINALLY!” _it bellowed. 

And the eurynomos lunged straight for her. 

She hadn’t felt this happy seeing a Greek monster in ages. Before the vulture diaper (to which Apollo lovingly called them) could reach out to her with its disease-wasting claws, muscle memory kicked in and Annabeth dove to the side. 

“What are we dealing with, Chase?” Percy (still shirtless) cautiously called out as he backed away from the monster. Grover was beside him, clutching his reed pipes tightly in his hands. On the opposite side of the RV, Luther sprang out of his seat and slammed the driver’s door shut.

The eurynomos landed on the ground with a heaving crouch, and kept its sights fixed on Annabeth. It looked just like the others she’d encountered years ago, when Apollo still had his god-turned-into-a-human problem. The ghoul’s glistening skin, colored entirely like a unhealed bruise, was stretched in a thin layer over its internal organs and bones. Long, reed-like arms with claws that reached down to its knees dangled at both its sides. The eurynomos’s milky white irises, devoid of a pupil, sunk in its bony face like craters, and its massive jaw dropped down to form a maniacal, gaping smile. It bared two sets of crowded teeth, just as sharp and long as its claws, and cackled in Annabeth’s direction. Viscous streams of yellow saliva pooled down its mouth and face as the crude, humanoid monster declared, _ “FRESH FOOD!” _

“It’s a eurynomos!” Annabeth called back. The monster sprung towards her and Annabeth dipped to the side just in time to narrowly avoid a claw to her face. 

“You’re-a-what?”

Annabeth groaned. “Eurynomos! Greek ghoul!” 

The eurynomos swung its long arm at her and Annabeth dodged it, reaching up with her knife and clipping its tendon right at the elbow joint. The vulture diaper pulled back its arm and let out a howl of pain. 

Grover blew furious tunes into his pipes, and the weeds around the monster grew to a meter in length. They braided themselves around the ankles of the eurynomos but it was faster, and the ghoul darted sideways and grabbed hold of the weeds to rip them out from the root. 

“What do we do, then?” Percy’s sword sprung to life in his hands. He gripped his weapon tightly and prepped himself to dart forward until Annabeth cried out in protest. 

“No! Don’t come near!” Annabeth managed before she rolled backwards into the grass to avoid another blow. “One scratch and disease will kill you!” 

Annabeth panted as she sprung back on her feet, knife held out in front of her. The eurynomos lowered itself to the ground, and prepared to leap towards her. Just as Annabeth was about to sprint forward, the ghoul whirled backwards and caught the blade of Percy’s sword between its hands. 

_ “NO!” _ the ghoul shouted, and it pushed Percy’s blade and him backwards. “ _ OLD FOOD! I WANT FRESH FOOD!” _It turned back to Annabeth. 

More music pierced the air, and the plants beneath the ghoul’s feet shifted to pull it underground. Off-balance, long arms flailed in the air and the ghoul yelped as the earth began to swallow it. 

Luther, now in his ogre form, ran up to the eurynomos and tackled its back, driving the monster forward into the ground. With hands double the size of baseball mitts, Luther grabbed the back of the monster’s scalp and pounded its face into the ground below. 

Then the eurynomos dug its claws into the earth, and dragged itself out of the ground with disturbing speed. Luther was knocked off its back, and the ghoul charged forward towards Annabeth with its eyes wide open like huge, hungering discs.

But Annabeth was quicker. She lunged to her right, dipping downwards, and swung her knife-wielding hand forward to drive the blade into the monster’s gut. She dragged her knife through as it ran past her, ripping out strings of muscle and tendon. The ghoul shrieked out in pain. Warm, black blood oozed into her hands, and she pulled away before the eurynomos could swerve and catch her forearm with another one of its claws. 

Then Percy appeared beside her, and with lightning-speed his sword flashed and the shoulder of the ghoul’s arm was disconnected from its body. The eurynomos wailed, “_ NO! BAD FOOD!” _and lurched straight towards Percy. 

Annabeth cursed, and she tackled Percy out of the ghoul’s way in time. Their bodies tangled and rolled in the grass before they separated into two panting heaps. 

“What did I just tell you?” Annabeth yelled, sitting up and turning to Percy. “_ And _you’re shirtless!”

“_ You’re _the one with a short-range weapon!” 

“But _ I’m _the one who knows how to kill it!” 

And the air vibrated with more music from Grover’s reed pipes that sounded less like a song and more like a muffled: “_ ANNABETHWATCHOUT—” _

Wordlessly, Percy tossed her his sword and Annabeth caught it in time to drive it straight through the eurynomos’s chest as it pounced. Then her right arm swung upwards and she twisted the blade of her celestial bronze knife straight through its head, and out the opposite side. 

The monster’s body jerked violently. Then the ghoul’s face, inches away from hers, froze into a permanent expression of dread and shock. Annabeth screwed her eyes shut as black blood dripped onto her face and chest, and the eurynomos’s mouth dropped open to let a low, death-rattle from its throat. 

Then it slumped over, unmoving, on top of her. 

Heavy, frantic footsteps thumped on the ground near Annabeth. Then Luther reached down and yanked the monster’s lifeless body off of hers. 

In the distance, Grover gasped. 

Annabeth winced as the ghoul’s impaling claws withdrew from the skin above her collarbone. She rolled over and shielded herself with her arms, right before the eurynomos burst into a cloud of dust and nothingness.

“Kid…” Luther choked out, seeing the mass of red accumulating on her chest. 

“_ Annabeth,” _Percy exclaimed, and he appeared at her side. His eyes widened at the claw marks on her chest. “Holy shit.”

“I’ll be okay,” Annabeth wheezed, and attempted to raise herself to her elbows until the searing pain in her chest made her curse. _ “Fuck!” _

Grover rushed over and bent down to inspect her wounds. With a short, deliberating pause, he whispered slowly, “I-I’m going to try to heal you, okay? Bear with me.” And he guided Annabeth back down on the grass, and held her hand in both of his. 

He proceeded to sing a low, melancholic song. 

Annabeth groaned and gingerly touched her fingers to her chest, where the pierced wounds had swelled into red, bleeding gashes. The pain was, at first, too sharp to tell if Grover’s song was working. Then she felt the gashes begin to close underneath her fingertips, like an invisible thread was sewing them closed. 

Another hand reached down and grabbed hers away from her wounds, squeezing it tenderly. Above her, Percy’s face was morose and self-loathing. “It’s my fault,” he breathed out. “It’s—”

_ I mean, Apollo survived, right? _ Annabeth distantly wondered. She wracked her brain with, _ But how?, _ and came up with, _ He’s a god. Of course he did _.

“It’s alright.” Annabeth managed. Beside them, Grover continued singing, his eyes closed like he was trying to keep himself from crying, while Luther’s hands flew to the sides of his head. 

_ Disease-wasting illness, huh? _ Annabeth recited in her mind, recalling that one lecture about eurynomoi in her _ Forgotten Monsters: Greek Mythology Revisited _class elective at camp. 

Annabeth squeezed both Grover and Percy’s hands and said, not entirely sure if to them or to herself, “I’ll be okay.”

“Annabeth?” said another voice.

A few seconds passed, and then Grover stopped singing. He looked up, and a flood of disbelief filled his features. Then Percy followed suit, and Luther too, but they looked more confused than surprised. 

And then Annabeth finally turned her head, and she too froze in shock. 

There, standing on the opposite side of the road, was Thalia. 

And beside her—

“Mr. McLean?”

* * *

Annabeth bit down on a wadded T-shirt as she dabbed her wounds clean with a towel soaked in alcohol. The RV bathroom probably wasn’t the most sterile place to clean some eurynomos gashes, but with certain fatal illness befalling her sooner or later, did it even matter now? Should she even bother to _ clean _these wounds? 

_ No, _ Annabeth thought decidedly, but the surface-level pain was enough to keep her mind away from the thought. _ Finish the quest. Worry about that later. _ Distantly, she apologized to Will Solace again in her mind, having done _ another _ stupid thing.

Whatever. The past few years have already felt like borrowed time anyways. She went ahead and changed into denim jeans and another black tank top, because her other one was soaked in eurynomos blood.

The RV slowed to a stop just as Annabeth stepped out of the restroom. In her absence, Percy had decided to switch into a different outfit, consisting of jeans, a dark grey hoodie, and an olive green jacket—maybe the “shirtless” part from earlier really got to him, and he was effectively bundled up. Grover had changed into a _ New Rome University _hoodie, presumably gifted to him from their friends at Camp Jupiter, and denim shorts that went to his knees. 

There was a troubling tension in the air between the two of them. Grover was shoving away his reed pipes into his backpack, while Percy stared at the ground and kept partially uncapping and recapping his pen/sword. 

“Guys,” Annabeth started. “What’s—”

The door swung open, and Luther’s head popped in. It seemed he had also taken the time to change into a clean outfit. (Seriously, how many pairs of white V-necks and black jeans did he own?). “We’re here.”

Annabeth gulped and sent Grover a considerate look that said, _ What’s going on? _

Grover shot back a look that replied, _ You’ll find out _, while Percy turned away, swinging his backpack over his shoulder before Annabeth could get his attention. 

Annabeth sighed, grabbed her belongings, and descended the stairs.

The McLean’s Stockton property looked nothing like their other mansions. The road leading up to the house curved into a U-shape that paved way for a wide, concrete driveway. The grass in the front yard had grown to a foot high or so, and hedges that lined the front building and walkway grew out of their trimmed rectangular prisms and looked more like green marshmallows. Red and orange brick steps led from the pavement up to the two-story house, in which the exterior was lined with beige slats and white paneling. It reminded Annabeth a lot of the Drake and Josh house, except it was hidden in the woods on the outskirts of Stockton.

Approaching the front steps, Annabeth held back from doing a double-take upon seeing Thalia and Mr. McLean again, standing at the entrance. Thalia was dressed in her usual hunter gear: silver parka and camouflage pants. Her trademark spiky hair was less spiky and more wild, like she’d just come from a long and arduous hunt, and the silver circlet on her head was tilted to the side. Her blue eyes were lit with worry.

Tristan, however, looked a lot different than when Annabeth last saw him. He was dressed in black sweatpants and a dark purple shirt, like he’d just rolled out of bed. He’d also gained a little weight, which still, arguably, worked for him, and his normally closely-cropped hair was long enough to be tied back. His fashionably scruffy beard was still fashionably scruffy, and was a sign to Annabeth that things were finally getting better for the guy. 

Thalia rushed up to Annabeth and took her backpack. “_ Give me that,” _ Thalia urged. “You are in _ no _condition to—”

“Hey, I can still _ do _ things,” Annabeth said, rolling her eyes. Even though Annabeth was in her twenties, and Thalia still looked like she was fifteen, she’d always seen the huntress as an older sister. “What are you doing here, Thalia? And—Mr. McLean, _ you’re _the client?”

Tristan frowned as he held the front door open to allow the strange assortment of guests in. “Well…” he began. 

The front door led into a living room that had a fluffy white carpeting spread, and a wide, flatscreen TV perched atop a brick-laid fireplace. Black, rectangular couches were arranged in the room, with two of them facing each other and the other pointed towards the TV. In the middle was a glass coffee table, with a single succulent as the centerpiece. 

And then Annabeth remembered. 

Nero, Caligula, and Commodus. The Roman triumvirate who had once framed Tristan McLean for tax evasion. 

“Triumvirate Holdings,” she said aloud before McLean could speak. “I remember now.”

Mr. McLean nodded grimly. “I was down under. I had no choice but to take out a loan under the table.”

“Does… Piper know?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t want her to worry, but the audit drained everything from me, and by the time I had my assets back—that reminds me…” He turned and disappeared down into a corridor, and then returned after a few moments with a thick yellow envelope in hand. Mr. McLean took a moment to observe everyone in the room, and decidedly handed Luther the envelope, probably because he looked the scariest. “Here. The other one never came to collect.”

“Wait,” Annabeth started, “Tyson never showed?”

Grover nodded sadly. “Percy and I were talking about it while you were cleaning up. The trail’s gone cold.”

Annabeth turned to Percy, who was leaning against the wall and glaring at the floor. “You mean—”

“Hold on.” Thalia plopped down onto one of the couches. “Who are_ they _?” She gestured to Luther, who was busy lighting another cigarette (Mr. McLean seemed too intimidated to stop him), and Percy, who was brooding on the side. “I didn’t just drop out of a hunting trip and track you guys through the United States just for nothing. You guys have a lot of explaining to do.”

And Annabeth did. She introduced Luther and Percy to Thalia and Mr. McLean, and vice versa. She told Thalia all about the vampire attacks, the prophecy, the King of Death, Carter, and almost all of the events that had brought them here. She deliberately left out details concerning her dreams of Percy’s memories with Artemis, among other things she still had yet to understand herself, but Thalia knew Annabeth enough to know a look that said, _ There’s more, but I’ll tell you later. _

Y’know, just demigod things.

She glanced at Tristan McLean, whose frown hadn’t changed since the moment they got there. He looked bewildered by the information that was just relayed, and Annabeth wondered how much she said was disguised by the Mist. 

Whatever. Thalia was always the better demigod at tricking mortals. She can hypnotize him later.

As shocked as he seemed, Mr. McLean remained quiet, however, because Luther stood beside him and had the dollar bills from the envelope fanned out in his hands as he counted.

“What about you?” Annabeth said. “Did Jason tell you to find us?”

Thalia’s arms were crossed, and she was staring so intently at the succulent on the coffee table Annabeth half expected a lightning bolt to shoot out from her eyes and fry the thing. “Yeah. Tracked you guys all the way up through the Central Valley, and then Piper called me up and told me to give Mr. McLean a visit. She said Rachel had a vision of you guys taking an exit to Stockton, so I took a bus up here. The gang at camp is worried sick about you two.” Her eyes went between Annabeth and Grover. “All they know are Rachel’s visions, which are normally of just you and—” she jerked her chin towards Percy, “but now…” Thalia gritted her teeth. “This is some _ shit.” _

Indeed.

“So, Percy and Luther…” Thalia turned to them. “You guys are hunters too, then? Except you hunt the stuff we see in movies.”

Percy opened his mouth to speak but Luther gruffly answered, “Yep.”

Thalia leaned back with a wolfy grin. “Like Sam and Dean.” 

“Mr. McLean?” Grover turned to him. “You sure you didn’t get any visit from Tyson? Like, slept through a doorbell or something?” 

Tristan edged around Luther and made it to the couches, where he sat down and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, I’m sure.” He sounded exasperated. “Honestly, I’m a little relieved you’re finally here. I can finally get rid of this hanging over my head.”

“Should be.” Luther clapped a hand on Mr. McLean’s shoulder, which made him jump. “You’re all paid up. I’ll let Gabe know.”

Mr. McLean looked like an anvil was lifted off his shoulders. 

“What about the eurynomos?” Annabeth asked. “Do you think it has something to do with our quest?”

Thalia shook her head. “Maybe, as in, one of the things the gods like throwing at you to make your life hard. But intel from Camp Jupiter says there were still some left over after the Triumvirate let them loose in California. Eurynomoi like to follow the scent of—”

“We still need to find Tyson,” Percy interrupted, and his voice sounded like a harsh blade. “Full moon’s tomorrow night.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” Thalia crossed her arms behind her head and said, “I can track down anything.”

  
  
  



End file.
